Changing of the Winds
by Winoniel
Summary: Summary: Someone outside of the wizarding world gives Harry not only a reason to live, but to live well. Independent!Harry, powerful!Harry, no HBP or DH, though some mild spoilers from those books. *Warning: contains slash* HP/SS, HP/OC
1. Ch 1 Kindred Minds

**Changing of the Winds**

**Disclaimer**: This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Ch. 1 Kindred Minds

The mind, scanning yet again for the turbulent emotions of the unhappy boy, recoiled in pained surprise at the sheer anguish and despair it encountered. Almost feeling the bitter mutterings of the other: _Why? ….Why couldn't I learn to occlude my mind? ….Why couldn't I wait until it was confirmed that Sirius was really in danger? …...Why did I think my presence at the Department of Mysteries could save him? …..How could I have dragged my friends, as well as the members of the Order, down there?...I am responsible for yet one more death!…._ it perceived emotional eruptions that could only be heart-wrenching sobs, and felt its soul echo in sympathy.

The roiling pain ceased for a moment, and the mind, believing that the pain had ceased, grew concerned when it could no longer sense the other. Expanding its consciousness, it detected a fading remainder of the other's spirit, and panicking, focused on the faint indication of life. Expanding somewhat more to try to pinpoint its location, the mind envisaged a cool, mist-covered island, then focused on a non-descript town, and finally triangulated on a strange neighborhood in which all of the houses were exactly the same. The mind caught a glimpse of a small, dim dusty room, but when it tried to discern the other's mind, it found only grief and torment, but instead of shrinking back, pushed through the agony instead to concentrate on the young one's suffering mind.

_Young one, please focus on my thoughts!_

_Who are you? Are you Voldemort? Why are you torturing me? Get out of my mind!_

_Please listen to me for a moment! I don't know who this Voldemort is, but I felt your misery, and wanted to help._

_Oh God, please! Leave me alone! Please just…._

_Please listen for one moment! My name is Elëassa. I've felt your mind over the past couple of years, for some reason. I assume that it is part of my destiny to help you. The past couple of years, at this season, I have felt incredible desolation pouring from you. Just this evening, it seemed to threaten to overcome your spirit. I want to help._

_Why should I believe you? What if this is a trick?_

Elëassa allow her smile to infuse her thoughts._ I have felt your mind for this long a time. If I wanted to hurt you, wouldn't I have already?_

_Why should I trust you?_

She sought through her memories for something that would put the youth's mind at ease. _Two years ago, you dreamt of a woman with long, red hair, being killed by a frightening being. Green light filled the room. Last summer, you dreamt of a boy being killed in a graveyard. You were fighting an even more frightening form of that same being, as well. In both dreams, you were terrified and desolate. Does this prove that I feel your thoughts and emotions? I mean you no harm, please believe me._

_Why do you care? Why do you care if I believe you? What do you want?_

Sensing the youth's defiance falter, she reached out, allowing her peaceable nature to touch his._ I want to help._

A sob, then, _No one can help!_

_May I try?_

_Well,…._

_Just focus on the feel of my mind. Allow yourself to feel my presence in your thoughts. Just relax in the cadence of my words, in the feeling of calm that pervades my life-force. Ah, there!_

In a moment, less, really, Elëassa appeared in the small, gloomy room. Facing her, on a narrow cot, was a thin teenaged boy with green eyes and tousled black hair, wearing black rimmed glasses. His face was drawn, his eyes appeared dull, with red rims, and his shoulders were slumped, at least, until he saw her. Then, startled, he leapt to his feet, overturning books and rumpled clothing.

He pointed something at her. "Who are you?" He demanded, though his voice trembled slightly. Looking at the arm raised toward her, she could see thin rivulets of blood along his arms. He saw the direction of her gaze and winced, but kept the stick (a wand, she told herself—he's obviously a wizard) aimed fixedly at her.

"I am Elëassa. I was the one who contacted your mind. While you were focused on my thoughts, I was able to find where you are. I was concerned about you and wanted to help you with your pain." She smiled gently.

He lowered his arm, slowly, then motioned to the rusty metal chair while he reseated himself on the cot. "How did you get through the wards?"

Elëassa looked dubiously at the chair, then sat gingerly on the edge of the seat. Scanning the room, she took in the dusty, empty shelves, the few books on the bed, the threadbare blanket, the empty bowl on the floor, and the overall disheveled atmosphere. "Do you mean the security fields around this house? They are set against people who possess your kind of magic. They were no difficulty for me."

The boy scowled. "What do you mean, my kind of magic? What kind of magic do you possess?"

She smiled again, thinking that he reminded her of a prickly young kitten. "I am an elemental. My magic is that of air and earth, fire and water. Because I don't possess a magical core as you do, your wards are ineffective against me."

"Oh…." The boy shrugged, uncaring. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and seemed to fold in on himself.

Elëassa, concerned, moved over to the bed, and rested her hand against his cheek. She grew even more troubled when he didn't react. Noticing he had fallen into an uneasy sleep, she passed her hands over his arms, healing the shallow cuts, but discovering the many relatively fresh cuts along both arms. He seemed fatigued, but seeing his restive slumber, she made a decision. Recognizing that the wards might alert someone if she removed the boy, she concentrated on the sensation of his magical core, and created a duplicate aura from the electricity and atmosphere in the room. She stood with the boy in his arms, noting how slight he was, and disappeared.

_TBC_


	2. Ch 2 Divided Minds

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer:  This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Ch. 2    Divided Minds

Remus Lupin sighed.  Because he shared their condition, he had  been dispatched to the werewolf packs not yet pledged to Voldemort. Albus Dumbledore, head of the Order of the Phoenix  had hoped to secure, if not the  cooperation of the independent packs, at least their neutrality in the upcoming conflict.  After weeks of traveling among them, some of whom were almost feral, he was exhausted, both mentally and physically.  Because of the fierce nature of his affliction, over which he exercised admirable control, he depended upon the façade he presented to the world of a reserved, rather insubstantial person.  That image was currently much easier to display.  He hadn't had a shower since he'd left, he'd eaten little but barely cooked meat, and he was sickened by the cavalier attitudes of some of the younger members of the packs, who quite frankly, had little to trust in the promises of the Ministry.  He was despondent about the loss of his old friend Sirius Black, fearful about the new rise of Voldemort, and worried about Harry.

Upon his arrival at Grimmauld Place, he took a long shower, heated up some of Molly Weasley's stew that he'd found in the cold storage cupboard, then poured himself a snifter of brandy as he sat before the banked fire in the parlor.  He had just rested his head against the back of the wingback chair, toying with the idea of floo-calling Dumbledore, when the front door opened.  He grasped his wand in his hand, hidden by his sleeve, and affected a posture of repose.

"Lupin," a dark, low voice drawled.  He glanced up at Severus Snape, Potions Master and professor at Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft.  Remus nodded slightly, taking in the lank black hair, large, aquiline nose, and sallow skin, and motioned to the other chair and the bottle sitting on the table between the chairs.

"No, thank you." Snape sneered.  "I was supposed to meet the Headmaster here at seven.  I will just wait in the—"

"No need, Severus," Remus interrupted.  "If you would be more comfortable waiting here, I was just getting ready to retire upstairs to—"

"Actually,"  a third voice, deep and powerful, broke in, "I would really like to hear from both of you."  Albus Dumbledore stepped through the fire, which had just flared green. He was a tall, imposing wizard with piercing bright blue eyes, long silver-white hair and matching beard, wearing an astonishingly vivid blue robe and hat, both adorned with shimmering silver crescent moons and winking yellow stars.  Bemused by the hyper-active decorations , Severus and Remus intentionally did not look at each other as they shifted back slightly, making room for their new companion.

Severus, ruffled slightly by the presence of the werewolf, but keeping his expression neutral, sat in the second wingback chair, while Dumbledore conjured a commodious chartreuse and maroon floral-print armchair.  Sneering at the overstuffed chair, the dark-haired man poured himself a finger of brandy, and sniffing it appreciatively, took a small sniff.  He put on an appearance of inattention while listening circumspectly to Lupin's report. 

After Remus had recounted his efforts with the werewolves, Dumbledore sighed, and turned to Severus.  He gazed pensively at his spy before asking, "What news of activity in our opposition, Severus?"

"Nothing of much import, Headmaster, just some details of raids that I have noted for you," he responded, his eyes lighting upon a roll of parchment he'd laid on the side table.  Dumbledore nodded.  "There were many healing and strengthening potions that I had to brew.  Apparently, the Dark Lord's possession of Potter was exceedingly draining."  At that, Dumbledore brightened and grew thoughtful.

"There was one other thing, though, that I thought was most curious.  The Dark Lord mentioned to me that he was no longer able to sense Potter's thoughts through his scar.  Did his possession of the boy affect the connection that much, or could it be a function of the resulting weakness, do you think?"  He was looking at the headmaster, but noted a sharp movement, quickly suppressed, by Lupin.  Both he and Dumbledore turned to the shabby, quiet man.

The elderly wizard nodded again.  "Both of those hypotheses are valid enough to explore further, but do you have something to add, Remus?" 

Remus spread his hands earnestly, hoping to diffuse the situation before it began.  "Well, when I learned that Harry's Occlumency lessons had stopped, I thought that I would give him a couple of books on meditation and mind control." Noticing Snape opening his mouth to interject, he hurried on, "Remember that he was raised by Muggles, so he wouldn't have had any instruction on quieting his mind to control his accidental magic.  Since he was having such difficulty, I thought that might be a good place to start, and maybe he could pick up something on his own."

Severus, fuming, thought, _"Of course, it wasn't that he didn't practice, or thought himself above any instruction, it was because the 'poor thing' just didn't understand!  It figures that even that fiasco is 'not his fault,'_ trying to ignore  the niggling spike of dismay that he'd yet again forgotten about Potter's Muggle upbringing.  His thoughts drifted back to that disastrous first Potions lesson, in which he berated Potter for not understanding common potions botanicals.  That error in judgment paled in comparison to those he'd made in later Potions classes, in Occlumency lessons, as well as in their daily interactions.  He derided himself yet again for letting his (quite justifiable, in his opinion) hatred of all things Potter to interfere with his ability to gather and process information.

Remus' next query drew Severus out of his woolgathering.  "Professor Dumbledore, has anyone heard from Harry lately?  I made him promise to write the Order every three days, so that we would know he was alright."

Severus scoffed, "And you expect the little ingrate to actually give a thought for others' concern for his well-being?  He's probably too busy lording it over his relatives to take a moment to write."

"Actually, Severus," Remus warily replied, his unease about the reactions of either wizard apparent, "After we sort of threatened Harry's relatives at King's Cross, I was concerned that he might bear the brunt of their displeasure, so I would really like to make contact with him."

"Threatened, Lupin?  Did you also fall for the boy's tales of woe about his mistreatment?  Can't you figure out how he has manipulated you, like he has all of his _fans_—" Severus snarled, before he was cut short by Dumbledore's quiet, yet piercing voice.

"Threatened, Lupin?"  The atmosphere in the room shifted to controlled menace.  Severus shifted uneasily, shaken by the change in the older wizard.  Lupin, on the other hand, demonstrated that disconcerting Gryffindor courage when he looked Dumbledore in the eye and said calmly, "Yes, Headmaster, threatened.  It was Alastor's idea, after the Weasley twins shared some of their knowledge of that household, but I agreed with it.  My only concern was whether it would be effective.  Has anyone heard from Harry?"

Dumbledore, his eyes most decidedly NOT twinkling while still gazing intently at Remus, answered.  "Apparently, Harry was unaware that you would make such a proposition at the station, and had previously made arrangements for Hedwig to stay at the Weasleys for the summer, to ensure that she would get enough proper food.  Since I had asked his friends, out of concern for his security, to not contact him, and I have wards that deflect any owls from people outside of his circle of friends, he would not have received any owls that he could use to send any messages.  However, my wards tell me that he is unharmed."

Severus gaped at Lupin, fixed on the first part of the Headmaster's statement. "I'm not sure what you mean by proper food.  I am not unaware that Potter seems to care for his familiar.  Is the arrogant little monster so stupid as to pass on only the rich type of treats with which his family spoils him?"

Remus snorted, "Treats?  Spoiled?  It's about time that you tore the blinders from your eyes, Severus.  Perhaps you don't remember Petunia, Lily's sister, but she hates magic, everything that has to do with it, and in particular, she hates Harry.  Her husband and she both fear and hate Harry, but that doesn't keep them from mistreating him, working him for hours every day, while at the same time barely feeding him, and keeping him locked in his room the rest of the time."

Severus did indeed remember Petunia Evans Dursley.  As a child she was inordinately jealous of Lily's magical abilities, and after failing in her attempt to convince Dumbledore to let her attend Hogwarts with her sister, became almost rabid in her dislike for her sister, insisting to outsiders that she was an only child.  She tried as much as she could to pretend that magic didn't exist.  While Severus could care less about the emotional well-being of the Boy-Who-Lived, if he was in her care with no recourse to aid—

"Headmaster," Severus spoke quietly, unwilling to appear in the least in agreement with the werewolf on anything, but concerned.  He reminded himself that it was only because of his promise to keep Lily's son safe.  "If the boy has no way of contacting anyone, perhaps a visit from you would not be amiss.  As I'd mentioned, the Dark Lord cannot reach you through him at present."

"Are you sure, Severus, that the topic was not deliberately directed at you with the intent of redirecting our efforts, and thereby continue to use young Harry?"  Dumbledore asked gently, thought the twinkle did not return to his eyes.

"Professor, I can go and visit Harry,"  Remus volunteered.

"I don't believe that this is necessary.  As I said, the wards—" Dumbledore.

"Please, Professor, it would really relieve my mind."  Both Severus and Dumbledore were taken aback.  Severus wondered, _"Is Lupin finally growing a backbone?"_  He said aloud, "Why the rush, Lupin?  In fact, why the vehemence now?  Could it be guilt for not standing up all those years ago?"

Remus winced, acknowledging Severus' cutting observation by looking directly in the taller man's eyes.  "Actually, I feel as if I have been standing down most of my life, and quite frankly, I'm sick of myself.  Here is a young person who really has no one who puts him first in his life, and even I have been away on Order business while he has been suffering from the aftermath of Sirius' death.  I am feeling guilty more for not standing up for him, but yes, there is residual guilt from my past."

"At any rate, Remus, you are barely able to keep yourself awake, so your visit will have to wait for a few days, until you have recovered from your extraordinary efforts on behalf of the Order."  Dumbledore stood, alerting the others to the fact that the meeting was over.  Remus stood, as well, swaying slightly from exhaustion, but again, importuning the older wizard.  "Sir, could you then drop by, or send someone else from the Order?"

Dumbledore's voice sharpened, his frustration with Remus' doggedness growing. (1) "As I said earlier, I cannot chance my proximity with young Harry.  Severus, would you pop over and make sure that he is STILL (glancing over at Remus) alright?"

Severus paused, feeling manipulated yet again by the leader of the Order.  He was conflicted between his loathing for the spawn of James Potter, his school-days tormenter, and his very real obligation to ensure the safety of Lily's child.  He had this clear image of the self-important, inconsiderate Potter miscreant that was at odds with what he'd learned that evening.  He didn't relish more mental dissonance, but it seemed his duty was clear.

Bowing his head slightly, he replied.  "Yes, of course, Headmaster, immediately."  Visualizing the location used by the Order guards last summer, he turned, and as he disapparated, he heard Remus' pathetically grateful voice, "Thank you, Professor."

_TBC_

(1)  Sorry, couldn't resist 'doggedness'!


	3. Ch 3 Tranquility

~text~ indicates thoughts or mental communication

Ch. 3 Tranquility

Harry sat in lotus position, meditating serenely on the unspoiled sands under swaying palm trees. He opened his eyes, smiling at the brilliant blue, aqua, and turquoise of the water and sky. It had been an incredible month. He, Elëassa, and Elëassa's brother, Carnesir, had spent hours upon hours talking through his emotional problems. Their insight and his own personal honesty had allowed him to deal with aspects of his life and personality that had developed as defense mechanisms to both his warped upbringing and abnormal interactions with the Wizarding World.

What made the hours of counseling even more effective was the miracle that was wrought very early in his visit to this secret island paradise in the Caribbean. The members of Elëassa and Carnesir's family group were quite concerned about what they considered the 'aberrant' connection between him and Voldemort. He was told that Elëassa, as the elemental who had the most intense link with him, could perform a ritual in which they would intermingle their blood, executing the first part of the ancient elemental adoption rites. An important aspect of the ritual was dissolution of any previous bond, whether blood or magical. The downside, according to the elementals, was that any blood protection afforded at his aunt's house would be lost, but the upside, to Harry, was that any familial link to the Dursleys would also be lost.

They had performed the ritual on his third day on the island, and Harry was amazed at the emotional difference wrought in him. The anger and resentment of the previous year, while not totally ameliorated, was much more easily controlled by the meditation techniques that he was practicing. He had not realized how much darkness had permeated his psyche with Voldemort's restoration. The angry, reckless youth of his fifth year was replaced by a calmer, more reasonable young man.

Elëassa had cautioned him, though, that while they would all consider the ritual just a necessary step in ridding him of Voldemort's presence, she would take her responsibilities as his adopted 'mother' seriously. It warmed his heart to know that she cared that much about him, and he was honored by her efforts to include him in her family. Carnesir was as invested as she in counseling him, while her father, Durondel, helped to heal many of his scars (though the link was broken, Voldemort's curse scar still resisted eradication. Elëassa thought that his body considered it a part of itself, and she refused to consider alternative means of removal. She told him to "live with it." She could be rather hard-nosed about some things, he thought with a grin.). His new-found cousins, Lycia and Sarodel, helped him to laugh and play like a boy his age should.

It was what his myriad scars represented that formed the basis of his counseling. Harry, in the last month of school and the first week of holidays, had begun cutting. There were many contributing factors: his overwhelming survivor's guilt over his parents, Cedric, and Sirius; the realization that he was sexually attracted to men; the crushing weight of the prophecy, as well the wizarding world's expectations of him and its propensity to alternate wildly between worship or vilification.

Harry's cutting had begun accidentally upon the discovery of the two-way mirror that Sirius had given him. In his anger at forgetting about using it to ensure that Sirius was safe, he'd thrown it across the room, and when picking up the shards, he'd cut himself. The momentary cessation of emotional pain for the brief moment that the physical pain hit him was eye-opening, and quickly became addictive. Whenever he was emotionally overwhelmed—which happened quite frequently in the weeks before the school year ended—he would run to one of the boy's toilets in the castle, transfigure a quill or bit of parchment into a razor, and watch with fascination as the shallow slice into his skin mitigated a bit of the pain in which he was drowning.

Harry remembered discussing his reasons for cutting with Carnesir and the dark clouds that shadowed his new "uncle's" face as he muttered about the lack of counseling. He explained to Harry that after his experience with Quirrel, after the Chamber of Secrets, and particularly after the experiences accompanying Voldemort's regeneration and the Department of Mysteries debacle, the school should have given him (and his friends, particularly Ginny Weasley) some sort of psychological therapy to help him deal with the aftermath. Harry explained that psychotherapy was not an especially widespread British wizarding technique and that the counseling he was receiving was part of what made his stay on the island so extraordinary and liberating.

"Harry James?" He opened his eyes and his memories withdrew when he heard the melodious tones of his "Mom." He was continually amazed that he had a family that cared for him. He looked up at the beautiful elemental. Even with the light behind her, he could see clearly her tawny skin, warm brown eyes, and the long curly black hair that cascaded down her back over her hips. Her primary elements water and air, the waves curling up on the shore lapped gently at her toes, and the breezes stirred her hair gently. Elëassa's smile when he raised his hand in acknowledgement of her call was loving, and her eyes danced when she asked, "You are really beginning to enjoy the meditation exercises, aren't you, child?" He had long resisted the exercises, calling them stupid, and lamenting that he'd never be any good at them.

Grinning ruefully, he responded, "I can't believe how tranquil I feel during and after them. Hell, even thinking about doing them is often enough to calm me!" He reached his hand up to touch hers. Elementals were extremely tactile, and he'd discovered that he relished physical touch. That was an aspect of his character that he'd repressed because his upbringing at the Dursleys. They had made him subconsciously believe that he was a 'freak,' that his body was shameful, and that he was undeserving of normal human interaction. Both Elëassa and Carnesir, as well as the rest of their family, made it a point to touch, caress, and hug 'Harry James' (as they called him—after all, why would his parents give him two names if they hadn't meant for them to be used?) at every opportunity.

"Good," she said tenderly, "Because I have some matters to discuss with you, and they may raise some sensitive issues for you." She took his hand to pull him into a standing position, and as they strolled down to a copse of trees among which her favorite resting hammocks were hung, she asked him what he felt toward Professor Dumbledore.

"It's quite complicated." Harry responded slowly, thinking hard. "He is incredibly powerful, and he gives everything he has to the fight against Voldemort. He has been very indulgent towards me over the years, singling me out for special attention."

Elëassa seated herself on one of the hammocks, pulling Harry in with her. As they moved about finding a comfortable position, she wondered aloud, "Why do you suppose he treats you the way he does?"

"Well, he said back at school after the battle in the Department of Mysteries that because he loved me so much, he doesn't treat me as a regular student. He wanted me to have as much of a childhood as possible, which is why he didn't tell me about the prophecy, or things like the details about Sirius, or answer my questions back in first year about why Voldemort had targeted me."

"And do you believe him?" One of the things that drove Harry nuts was the way Elëassa and Carnesir would ask questions to force him to work his way through a problem, rather than just telling him their own conclusions. They said they firmly believe in the "Socratic Method," and he would thank them when he could solve problems himself rather than depending on others, because they taught him the tools of "investigative inquiry."

"Maybe it's my bitterness speaking, but I think that if that was his goal, he did a piss-poor job of ensuring it!" Another facet of his dealing mechanism of which the two elementals was trying to make him aware was his predisposition to put other's needs before his own. They also convinced him that he should speak his truth, even if he had to clarify to others that it may not come from the "highest part of him." They felt he'd spent too much of his life censoring his speech, first at the Dursleys, then trying to fit it at Hogwarts, and that he would do better if he could allow himself to be heard.

"What do you mean?"

"If he wanted me to 'have a childhood,' he wouldn't have left me to be mistreated, starved, ignored, and held captive at the Dursleys'! He would have at least checked up on me once or twice! If he wanted me to 'have a childhood,' he would have made sure I had the tools to understand the wizarding world, so that I could fit in," he sputtered. "If he wanted me to 'have a childhood,' he wouldn't have treated me differently from the other students at the school. If he wanted me to 'have a childhood,' he wouldn't have isolated me from my friends every summer for my 'safety!' Instead he set up different situations for me every year, giving me an Invisibility Cloak, manipulating the circumstances so that I would find the Mirror of Erised, giving permission for a fourteen-year old boy to participate in the TriWizard Tournament, allowing children to save Sirius instead of going through legal channels to free him!" Harry was seething with pent-up resentment. He'd never allowed himself to think about his problems with Dumbledore's treatment.

"Why do you suppose he made the choices he did, if they were not really to allow you to 'have a childhood?'" Elëassa asked after a significant pause.

"I think part of it is that he wanted to develop a hero complex in me. He wanted me to put the needs of the wizarding world before my own so that I would be willing to battle Voldemort when the time came," he answered, allowing himself to calm. "On the other hand, even though he probably considered me a major component in the fight, he honestly did wish the best for me possible. The problem is just that he believes that he knows what is best for everyone, regardless of evidence to the contrary."

Elëassa nodded, pleased that Harry was becoming more thoughtful and reflective about his relationships. "And besides the bitterness and resentment you feel, what do you need to do about the Headmaster in regards to your future?"

Harry stopped, surprised. He was so used to responding to events that it had never occurred to him to envision what he wanted to happen. He remembered hearing once, "Slytherins act, Gryffindors react." Perhaps he should allow the part of himself that almost got him sorted into Slytherin to come to the fore more often?

"Well, I want to go back to Hogwarts, I just want to make sure that all of the counseling I've been undergoing has had some effect before returning." Harry began, slowly. "I am afraid that I won't have the strength to stand up to his stage-managing. I don't want to fall back into trying to be what everyone wants." He began to feel some of his anxiety return.

"Harry James, calm down!" Elëassa cautioned. "Between our discussions, the mind shields that we'll teach you, and your developing emotional control, you will be able to handle the pressures in the wizarding world. You will not return until you are ready, I promise you!" She grinned. "Besides, I'll be nearby, at least at first."

"What?" Harry cried, astounded. "You're really going with me to Hogwarts?"

_TBC_


	4. Ch 4 Tumult

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer:  This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Ch. 4    Tumult

Severus Snape appeared in a shadowed alley between Wisteria Walk and Magnolia Crescent in Little Whinging, Surrey.  He quietly walked the block and a half to stand across the street from number 4, Privet Drive.  He recalled Lily's sister, Petunia, as a jealous girl, made bitter by her inability to enter her sister's magical world, and wondered what she was like as a mother and wife (_and aunt_, his conscience supplied).

Severus remembered the house from guard duty the previous summer.  The house, exactly like its neighbors on the right and left, was perfectly square, with a lace curtains presently pulled tightly closed to ward against prying eyes (or more likely, he snorted, to disguise Petunia Dursley's own spying on her neighbors).  He also remembered a precisely manicured front lawn, but looking more closely, it appeared to have been neglected slightly.  There were a few signs of crab grass, and in some of the tight corners, the grass was not a uniformly trimmed as the rest.  Silently skirting the yard to view the back of the house, he noticed lights on in several of the upstairs rooms, but the window that he believed belong to Potter's room was dark.  _Probably sulking about his mangy dog-father_, Severus thought, again ignoring a prickle of foreboding.

Coming back around to the front, he took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.  It was opened by an obese boy with pale blonde hair.  Narrowing his small beady eyes suspiciously, he demanded, "Yeah, what do you want?"

"Duddums, who is at the door?" A tall, thin woman with a long, angular face appeared, nudging the boy back gently from the door.  Seeing Snape's black trousers and long-sleeved charcoal cotton shirt, her eyes rose to his face.  While her narrow lips tightened, there was panicked recognition in the way she jerked her head to beckon Severus into the house, glancing around the street behind him to see if he had been noticed.

Severus began.  "Mrs. Dursley, I am here from Hogwarts—" hearing a gasp, he saw the boy pound up the stairs, with a speed unexpected of his size, his hands protectively clasped against his rump.  _Muggles are generally bizarre, with this family more bizarre than most_, Severus mused.  He began again, "I'm Severus Snape, a professor from Potter's school, and I am here to check up on—"

He was interrupted yet again, "I know who you are, you were that horrid boy that Lily befriended.  Well, the boy's not here, has not been for a month."  Petunia whispered, with an anxious look over his shoulder into the kitchen.  "So, if you want his things, you may take them, but I would suggest—"

"What do you mean he isn't here?" Severus interrupted in turn.

The woman muttered, apprehensively, "I said he's gone, please….."

"What's going on here?" roared a large, corpulent man with very little neck and a bushy mustache as he entered the room.  Upon spotting Severus, his face quickly developed into an alarmingly mottling of purples and reds, sputtering and drawing himself up as he faced the wizard.  "If you're one of those freaks come to take that good-for-nothing boy, he's run away, left a week after school ended and good riddance!"

Severus' prickle became a full-blown tremor, visceral and agonizing.  If they'd truly lost the Boy-Who-Lived, if Remus' concern was justified, what did it mean that the Dark Lord could no longer sense Potter through the connection of that thrice-damned curse-scar?  Where would he have gone, more importantly, _why_ would he have gone?

"Why would Potter want to run away from such a loving, caring family?" Severus inquired silkily, subtly palming his wand.  His slight movement did not go unnoticed, as both Dursleys' eyes snapped to his hand.

"I tell you, we've done nothing but clothe, feed, and house the boy out of the goodness of our heart.  We've put up with the freakishness of his friends, those insane people at the train station, owls….."  Vernon Dursley was working himself up to a head of steam, when Severus interjected.  "May I see his room and belongings?"

"Yes!" Dursley shouted.  "Go ahead, and take them, and do not darken our door again!"  Petunia swung around with a sharp jerk of her head.  She made a gesture and walked to the stairs.  Severus quickly followed, noting her eyes darting toward his wand hand.  "Look," she began, "We had nothing to do with his leaving.  He pretty much stayed in his room the whole week he was here, barely eating, and not uttering a word.  One morning, his things were still here, but he was nowhere to be found."

"And you didn't think to alert us?"  Severus snapped.

"How dare you?"  She shrieked.  "How were we supposed to reach you?  We have no way of contacting your people, yet you can just drop in without a my-your-leave, leaving babies and mayhem in your wake.  You have a lot of nerve….."  Severus noted that she was becoming more and more frenzied with each word.  He tried to diffuse the situation.  _Not one of my strength_s, he thought, ruefully.

"You're quite correct, and I'm sure the situation was stressful.  Potter can be quite the handful."  He murmured, softly.  She glanced at him sharply, then said, "Yes, well….  If you hear anything, I would appreciate it if you would let me know."  _Does she really care about Potter_? thought Severus, staring at her, surprised.  He remembered several scenes from Potter's memories in which the woman and a hot frying pan figured prominently, and he shrugged.  _Potter would drive anyone to physical violence_, he deemed, guiltily discounting the fact that Potter couldn't have been more than five years old when he was supposedly cooking for the family.

Arriving at the room, his stomach clenched when he saw the locks on the door—_on the outside: the boy was locked in!_—and the cat flap, _What__ had they pushed through that?_  Observing Petunia's tense shoulders and guilt-ridden expression, and wondering what had been going on in that house, he said quickly, "Please give me a moment, alone in the room, please."  Entering the dark and dusty room, he hurriedly took in the shabby cot, thin blanket, bare walls and shelves, baffled.  _This is where the Golden Boy grew up?  Among these people who despise him, in a small gloomy room with no belongings outside of what he had for Hogwarts?_  As he remembered the rest of the boy's memories, Lupin's and the Headmaster's comments, even some of Potter's own angry rejoinders, there was a excruciating moment of brilliant clarity as Severus realized how wrong he'd been about Harry Potter, how blind he still managed to be with blatantly obvious facts staring him in the face.  As someone who prided himself on his abilities to note, remember, and analyze the smallest detail, his world literally shifted as he began to comprehend not only the profound depths of his mistaken perception, but how unspeakably horrendous his behavior had been as a result.

Shaken, he finally grasped the enormity of the situation.  Harry Potter was missing, had been for over a month, and he had no idea how that could have happened with the security situation established by Albus Dumbledore.  He hastily _accio'ed_  the boy's belonging, watching bemusedly as several articles flew out from under a floorboard below the dilapidated cot, and quickly sent them to the trunk, which he locked and shrunk.  Casting one last jaundiced eye around the wretched home of the Boy-Who-Lived, he stepped out into the hall, where Petunia Dursley waited, wringing her hands.

"From the condition of that room—" Severus began, frostily, but was interrupted angrily.

"I know, I know!  There was no love lost between us and the boy.  You can do what you want with us at your leisure; heaven knows we can't stop you!"  She burst out, pale and shaken.  She went on, sneering, though still staring at his wand as if she expected some spell to shoot out of it any minute.  "But he was supposed to be safe here.  That's what your Mr. Dumblesmore said.  That was the only reason we put up with this.  How could this happen?"

Prickly with his lack of information, Severus retorted, "I have no idea, but we will find out."  He shook his robes out slightly, and prepared to descend the stairs.

In a wistful voice that Severus had no time to puzzle out, Petunia responded.  "Please… well, when you do, let us know….?"  He hung a moment at the top of the stairs, looking back at the ashen, shamefaced woman, then nodded curtly, before leaving the house, moving silently outside the anti-apparition wards, then disappearing with a quiet 'pop.'

_TBC_


	5. Ch 5 Exhilaration

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer:  This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warning:  While not explicit, this story will contain slash.  Please do not read if such scenes are offensive to you.

Ch. 5  Exhilaration

"Come on, Harry James, we've only been running an hour!"  Carnesir called back to the figure jogging painfully ten yards behind him.

"I can't,…I can't,….I god-damned can't!"  Harry panted as he stopped short and flung himself on the sand.  They were running at the water's edge, where the sand was packed tighter, and he held himself up by his forearms while he tried to suck air into his straining lungs.

Carnesir turned and strolled back to the youth.  He was dismayed at how thin and weak Harry had been when Elëassa had brought him to Cabrëanea, their island home.  He was underweight, unused to much physical activity, and not really sure what a healthy diet consisted of for a growing boy.  Carnesir snorted as he wondered how wizards could actually think that flying on a broomstick was a realistic program of exercise for young boys and girls.  As for the heavy food they leaned toward, well that was another story altogether.  All in all, though, Harry had come a long way from when he'd first arrived.  Then, he could barely jog a mile without becoming lightheaded.  Today, they had run 8 times that, and at a quite speedy pace.  He could afford to go easy on the boy.

"OK, youngling, I have to admit that you have been improving much quicker than I expected.  Well done!" the boy beamed, then peered up suspiciously as Carnesir gracefully dropped down to rest beside him. "If you are too tired to run further, how about we sit and talk for a bit?" 

Harry groaned.  He'd talked about his relationships—with the Dursleys, Dumbledore, the Weasleys, his classmates—ad nauseum, but Elëassa and Carnesir always managed to find more painful experiences for him to relive, more emotions for him to explore.  He grudgingly admitted that he had grown both physically and emotionally healthier in leaps and bounds since being with the elementals, but he hated every minute of it.  It was excruciatingly awkward, embarrassing, and upsetting to see how emotionally stunted he'd been and how much it had hindered his friendships, his school performance, as well as his interaction with the world around him. 

It was also, well, heartwarming.  The brother and sister, as well as the rest of their family, were amazingly understanding and supportive.  Every time he struck out in shame or fear, they would embrace him lovingly, or leave him alone to stew a bit.  What was incredible was how they seemed to know which reaction was the most helpful in each situation.  He'd asked about that, and Elëassa said that knowing those kinds of things was her 'gift.' 

It seemed that each elemental family had particular talents for which they were known.  The family trait in Durondel's family was that of healing.  It seemed that the way the trait manifested was a function of their primary elements.  Of the four elements—air, fire, water, and earth—usually an elemental, while being able to influence all of them to some extent, often had a particular affinity with one or two.  Carnesir, whose primary elements were earth and air, was especially good at healing the body and teaching others with that trait to develop it as well.  Earth was associated with physical abundance, while air was closely linked with communication and mental abilities.  His mom's primary elements—water and air—meant that she was adept at healing that dealt with emotional and mental troubles.  Harry considered himself quite fortunate to be adopted into this family, as they seemed the best equipped to handle his needs.

Carnesir conjured two globes of cool, fresh water. As Harry sipped, he prepared himself to expose his guts, as has been the procedure for these sessions.  He knew that they were making him healthy and whole, but damn, they were so bloody painful!

"So Harry James, one of the reasons you said you were cutting yourself was because you found that you were attracted to men."  Harry nodded, as red crept up his neck, flushing his cheeks and ears.  Was he going to have to talk about this, on top of everything else? This was going to be torture.

"I take it that such feelings are outside the norm for your culture?"  Carnesir asked softly.  Harry's eyes snapped up as words erupted from his mouth. "They're not unusual here?"

His uncle smiled, and spoke quietly, yet firmly.  "The Folk," which is how elementals referred to themselves, "feel that love is love, no matter in what guise it appears.  It is a rare, beautiful gift.  Who are we to turn it away?  Besides, life is too long," elementals lives were so long they were nigh unto immortal, and Harry loved the play on words, "to not enjoy it as much as one can.  Does that help you to understand how we feel about loving someone of your own gender?"

"Yes, thanks."  The young wizard's smile radiated relief and joy.

"Having gotten that out of the way," Carnesir continued, dryly, "My understanding is that you haven't really been involved in too many sexual relationships.  How is it you are so certain that you prefer men?" 

His blush threatening to tint every inch of his skin, Harry replied,  "Well, when I, um…. when I'm by myself….."

"Ah…." The older man said knowingly, "When you are masturbating?"

"Yes," Harry squeaked, then waited a moment to get his voice back under his command.  "Well, when I—"

"Masturbate—come on, Harry James, if you can do it, you can at least force yourself to say it!"  Carnesir prompted.

"Well," taking a deep breath, he tried again, "when I masturbate, I usually think of men's bodies, not girls."

"Hmmm, I see. Do women's bodies not appeal to you at all?"  Carnesir, to deflect some of the awkwardness of the conversation, gazed out over the waves to the horizon.

The youth murmured, sheepishly.  "Well, I think some girls are really pretty, and I kissed a couple of girls, and found I did enjoy it. Every once in a while, thinking about women makes me excited a little, but they're a little scary, you know?"

His uncle smiled, gently.  "Well, youngling, you would not be the first man to think so."  Smiling, he stood up, reached down to pull Harry up as well.  "Let's walk a bit; I don't want your muscles to tighten up after our exercise.  The brushed the sand off of their shorts, made of a silky-cotton like cloth woven by elementals.

"Actually, Harry James, I wouldn't be surprised if you were drawn to both men and women—it's not that uncommon.  It is probably because you feel that you understand men better emotionally that makes interacting with them easier"

"I assure you," Harry cut in, ruefully, "In my fantasies, I am not trying to understand them emotionally."

Carnesir, taken aback at Harry's self-aware, deprecatory statement, paused a moment, threw back his head, laughing heartily as he crowed,  "There is hope for you yet, my little nephew!"   As he sprinted back in the direction from whence they'd come, he tossed over his shoulder, "Come on, we can at least run back to the enclave!"

Harry groaned again, then took off after his uncle—that man was going to be the death of him yet!

As he staggered back to the elemental city on the older man's heels, Harry paused a moment for the customary awe to register on him.  It was an incredible feat of natural and magical architecture, a city built high among the trees of the island's interior forest.  There were beautifully ornate brown-gray staircases and pathways that connected the leafy halls and rooms.  Gentle beams of light danced among the branches, casting a glossy sheen on the walls of lightly waving drapes that seemed to be foliage one moment and silk the next.  The drapery was less for protection or privacy than for ornament—how elementals adored embellishing their homes, themselves and their lives, Harry thought.

A feast was being prepared.  Cabrëanea was hosting Folk from Peru and Ecuador, who were visiting to conduct a major exchange of agricultural seedlings and animals.  The Adaptives in that country had abandoned some spent mines, and the Folk hoped to reclaim and reforest the areas around them.  There were some trees and shrubs cultivated by the Folk of Cabrëanea that were especially promising for there sturdiness and increased developmental properties.

The Folk divided humans (or mortals, as they sometimes referred to them) into Adaptives, those without magic that manipulate their environment through the use of tools and machinery, and Magicals, wizarding folk that manipulate their environment through magic.  Adaptive methods tended to interfere with many of the natural processes of the earth.  While elementals tended to close themselves away from human society, with the exception of humans who grew up near or among Folk communities, they were not able to deafen themselves to the pangs suffered by the earth and her creatures.  Whenever they could, they would replant areas left barren by Adaptive technology, using their elemental magic to encourage rampant regrowth.

One of the things Harry really learned to appreciate about elementals was that they did not use their magic to handle of all of their tasks.  They actually preferred to work with their hands to create things of beauty, to weave and embroider cloth, to prepare their meals, and they even enjoyed the physical activity of _cleaning_!  While he shook his head about that last, he could sort of understand.  After all, when one has eternity, why bother taking shortcuts, as one has all the time in the world in which to do things. 

Instead, the Folk saved their magic for fun:  play, pranks, delighting themselves with all of the astounding things their powers could do.  It often reminded him of his first few days at Hogwarts, and all of the mystery and wonder that magic had evoked in him as a child.  That's it, he told himself, the feature that he found most irresistible about the Folk was their ingenuous joy of life, of each other, and of magic.

It was something to which Elëassa had dedicated herself:  helping Harry recapture the pure love of life that he was sure he hadn't experienced since his parents had died.  As she said, like Carnesir, rewording the familiar Muggle adage, "Life is too short, or too long, to not enjoy it!"

He smiled as he glimpsed his 'mom' sitting at the base of the tree they called their home.  She called out, "Harry James! Come keep me company while I cook!"  She had a large pile of vegetables which she cleaned and chopped, then tossed into a marble bowl.  "We have a large pit dug on the beach, with clams, and root vegetables, and a whole boar, that has been roasting since this morning!" she exclaimed, happily.  He chuckled at her obvious enjoyment with that evening's meal.

"I brought your art supplies from your room, if you'd like to mess about with them," she said, blowing a puff of air upwards to get a stray hair out of her eyes.  Harry lifted his hand to her face, and gently tucked the lock behind her ear before he leaned over to give her a quick peck. 

"Thanks, I was working on a still life of this clearing when you brother abducted me and forced me to run my feet ragged for hours!" Smiling, he adeptly set up his materials while relating his previous conversation to his adopted mother. He began grinding some of the paints, adding a bit of water.  He'd discovered that he really enjoying sketching and painting, listening to the elementals sing, and dancing along.  He was beginning to get the hang of 'enjoying himself.' 

"So tell me more about how you're coming with me to Hogwarts."  He murmured, brushing large swaths of color on the canvas.

"Well, actually I'm not actually going to Hogwarts. I will reside in the nearby forest."

"The Forbidden Forest?"  He froze, then spun around in shock.  "The one filled with all sorts of bloodthirsty animals?  Are you mad?"

She glanced up, smiled, and continued chopping.  "Relax, little one.  Remember, I am of the Folk.  I am 'on the top of the food chain,' as the Adaptives say.  The beings of the Forbidden Forest can't harm me nor would they even desire it."

"Anyway, why do you want to go with me?"  Harry returned to his painting, a little anxiously.

"Carnesir and I feel that it will help you to make the transition better.  You're doing so well here, but you are surrounded by people who love and understand the real you.  Back at Hogwarts, you would be pressured to fall back into old patterns.  In particular, the people who know you best would prefer that you don't upset their perceptions of you.

" And remember, dear heart, it won't be right away.  We don't think that you are ready to return just yet.  There are still so many triggers to some of your old emotional mechanisms."

"School begins in about a month.  You're right, I feel better, but I have all of you here to support me.  I just don't know…..How much longer do you think I will need?...  I-I d-d-don't want to go back until I'm ready…."  Harry's breathing quickened and his thoughts began to swirl in his head.  _I'm not ready, please don't make me go back yet!_

_Relax, Harry James_.  He'd apparently been projecting again, and he felt a cool wash over his fevered thoughts as Elëassa cast calming waves of sensations towards him.  He immediately pulled up his mental shields, a technique Carnesir had taught him during their meditation exercises.  He felt it was brilliant how the shields worked.  They not only helped him to detach himself from his emotions long enough to examine them, but they also formed a barrier similar to Occlumency, at which he'd failed so miserably with Snape.

"Sorry….  Thanks."  He felt himself embraced gently, and looked into his adopted mother's eyes.  The talk of school and Occlumency reminded him that he'd been promised that he could write some letters soon.

"Erm, … Elëassa?" he breathed, uncertainly.  She released him smiling, encouragingly.  "What is it, youngling?"

"Well, I wanted to ask if I should think about writing those letters.  I'm pretty sure that no one has checked up on me. Well, they never have before,"  He muttered bitterly.  "But Remus asked me to send him updates to let him know that I was ok.  Of course, he didn't know that Dumbledore had said that I could have not contact with anyone at the time."

"Do you think that your friends are concerned?"  Elëassa had wrapped the vegetables in large leaves.  They would later be tossed in the pits with hot charcoals and large catches of fish and one of the wild boars that roamed the island.

"No, I'm sure that Dumbledore told him about the ban, so Remus probably isn't.  However, since you're sure no one can track me here, I thought I would let them know I'm safe.  And in truth, it would feel really good to let Dumbledore know I've slipped his clutches and he has no way of getting me back until I decide to return!"  He grinned, then his smile dimmed a bit.  "Besides, you're right, I can't feel completely at peace until I've apologize for some of my actions."

"Ok, sweetling."  He could tell she was proud of him, it was apparent in her gentle smile and sparkling eyes.  "Why don't you start on that tomorrow morning?  I can get those to your addressees by the end of the day."

"Thanks,"  he hesitated, then added, with special emphasis, "Mom." 

Elëassa had put absolutely no pressure on him, saying that they could just consider the adoption ritual a necessary part of ridding himself of Voldemort's connection. She had also told him that if he wanted, he could totally sever their association when he returned to his former life.  He could tell, though, that she felt that he was a part of her family, though she refrained from making any comments along those lines.  He also noticed that she often restrained herself in conversation, choosing her words carefully when it came to their relationship. Elëassa allowed him to decide how much contact they would have.

Harry felt, though, that he probably would not have survived the summer emotionally intact if she had not gotten involved in his life.  _Lily and James Potter gave me life, but Elëassa has given me a second chance at living.  I think the Potters would approve and thank her for helping me to take advantage of their sacrifice_.

"Oh, Harry James!"  He was again embraced, but this time, also kissed madly.  "You have no idea how happy you've made me!"

He smiled tremulously.  "I believe I do." He added, "Lily Potter will always be my mother, the woman who bore me and gave her life for mine, but you are here for me now.  You're the one who is helping me to make the day-to-day decisions about growing up.  I really do feel like you're my mom."

She gave him a glowing smile, hugged him again, then gently pushed him away, and shaking her head slightly, looked around to remind herself of her task.  "OK, son, would you take these vegetable packets down to the cooking pits?"

Harry smiled happily as gave the vegetables to one of the beautiful girls tending the pits.  He was beginning to mentally compose the letters as he turned to stroll along the bank of a sparkling creek that brought run off down from the mountains.  It was bracingly cold, no matter how warm the sun made the island air, so he rarely put more than his toe tips in the water, but it was entrancingly beautiful. How he desired to capture—in painting—the beautiful rainbow glints of color that suffused it!

He stood still for a moment, his eyes closed, listening to the birdsong, the sound of the brook against the stones in the riverbed, feeling the cool breeze against his eyelids.  He was beginning to feel some of the effects of his adoption by an elemental.  He noticed that the air surrounding him was always comfortable, no matter how warm the day was, and he was pretty sure that had he entered it—after the initial shock of the icy cold water of the river—it would warm to a beneficial temperature immediately.  Elëassa said that after some more skill in meditation and connecting with the elements, he could learn to direct them.  He looked forward to that day, and smiling, opened his eyes, only to widen them further in surprise.

Standing before him was the more gorgeous young man he'd ever seen.  The youth, exiting the river, was nude.  He appeared almost sculpted from glowing marble, with slightly tan skin over well-muscled arms and torso.  As he approached more closely, Harry could see a tight, rippled abdomen, a softly coiled prick nestled in the curly hairs of the other boy's groin, and long, lean legs.  What engrossed Harry, however was his strikingly fined-boned face, in which was set glowing brown eyes, and was topped by a mane of golden-bronze hair.  The young man, seeing Harry, raised his hand in greeting.

"Hi there!  My name is Anwë.  I am here from Ecuador, enjoying your beautiful island!"  He paused, looking at Harry serenely.  "You're different from most of the Folk here, aren't you?"  He bent over (and Harry's mouth lost what little moisture it had as he gawked at that taut, tanned ass and hanging genitals), and pulled on a pair of loose-fitting trousers.  The boy's words, after a breathless moment, sunk in.  All of the elementals were quite attuned to the presence of elemental magic, as were the Adaptives who had grown up among them.  Apparently, as a result of the adoption, Harry's aura distinguished him as neither Magical nor Elemental, but rather a combination of the two.  He found that most of the Folk upon meeting him were quite fascinated with the sensation, often circling him with their eyes closed as they opened their awareness to his unique magical signature.

"Erm, yes!… Yes, …."  he stuttered.  "I'm Harry James.  You're right, I'm a Magical that was adopted by one of the Folk." He groaned as he felt a warm and fullness spreading from his groin.  He was getting hard just talking with the young elemental!  Harry hoped the other boy didn't notice

"Cool!"  Anwë breathed.  He looked at Harry a little closer, taking his time with the perusal.  Harry's senses, already acutely alert because of his meditation, jumped into high gear, taking in the tawny boy's scent.  He smelled of fresh herbs, some lingering musky flower, and a heady spice that Harry was unable to place.  Harry smiled slightly.  He'd said he was attracted to boys, and here was a living, breathing example of why.  He had a funny feeling that the boy was also attracted to him, but he couldn't be certain without asking.  Should he chance going further?  He didn't even know if the boy would be approachable, or if he was even gay.  However, if he was going to embarrass himself, at least this young man was leaving soon, and he could probably avoid him until then, if necessary.

"I was, erm,  going down to the shoreline for a walk.  Care to join me?"  Harry stammered.

The other youth paused, and his eyes seemed to travel up and down Harry's body.  Anwë smirked as he murmured, "I'd love to join you, if all of that," he gestured towards the growing bulge in Harry's shorts, "is for me?"

Harry, his cheeks flaming, "I suppose it can be, if you want…."  He paused a moment as if thinking, then smiled cheekily and added, "Yes, I'm pretty sure it is."

"Excellent!"  The boys grinned at each other, linked arms, and walked slowly towards the shore.  They kept glancing up, then away, shyly smiling when they caught each other's eye.  Long before reaching the shoreline, however, Harry, feeling unaccountably bold, drew the elemental into the shade of a copse of overhanging trees.  Spinning him around, Harry pressed his hands against the other's shoulders until Anwë's back met a tree trunk.  Harry pressed the length of his body against the youths, his lips grazing the boy's neck and chin.  Feeling the other boy shiver, he murmured, "Is this all right?"

Anwë, his fintertips carding through Harry's hair, smiled his approval sweetly, then ducked his head slightly to capture Harry's lips, deepening the kiss.  Anwë swept his tongue against the more inexperienced boy's lips, gently encouraging them to allow him access.  The boys leisurely slid down the tree, coming to rest on the springy sea grass that covered most of the island.

Harry was enchanted.  This was nothing like his kisses with Cho!  While he was just as nervous, with the young man he was electrified, wanting to delve deeper, needing first to be the aggressor, then allowing the other boy to be more dominant.  His skin felt overheated, restless, a thin layer of flesh providing the only containment to feelings that threaten to overflow his body, while transmitting the incredible sensations of fingers, lips, limbs, and tongues to zones that were rapidly becoming hypersensitized.

Harry's finger tips grazed a nipple, then Anwë's rippled abdomen.  As they skimmed the waistband of the boy's silken shorts, Anwë pleaded haltingly, "I want to feel all of your skin against mine, please?"  Eagerly, Harry slid the other youth's shorts down his legs, then raised up to pull of his own shirt, and tossed it to the side, leaning on one hip to yank his own shorts down and off, adding them to the tussled pile.

The first feel of full-length skin against skin produced delighted gasps from both boys before they crushed their lips together roughly.  Aligning their weeping erections, Harry groaned as the sweat melded with the moisture dripping from the tips, producing a delicious slickness as they ground their hips together.  With his head flung back, Harry's exposed neck proved irresistible.  Anwë attacked with lips and teeth, leaving delicate, soft marks as he kissed and bit his way around first to one ear, then the other.  The disturbing intensity of the light nips combined with the staggering, almost painful sensations coiling more and more tightly in his loins, and Harry was shuddering, his breath suspended in his throat as he reached his climax, with pulse after pulse of warm cream surging over their bellies and chests.  A moment later, he felt Anwë gasping into his ear as the elemental's taut muscles quivered, and he shook through his own release.

After lying together, nuzzling, teasing each others' tongues, hands sweeping lazily through hair, over shoulders, flanks and chests, the boys groaned at the feeling of cool messiness between them. Harry opened his eyes to see Anwë gazing at him, smiling softly.  His mind racing, Harry realized that he had finally been intimate with another male, and grinned.  It had been sweet, erotic, and definitely confirmed his preferences with a vengeance!

Propping himself up on one arm, he glanced at the sun sinking into the horizon, and said, "We'd better clean up before we get stuck together!" Giddy and energized, the two lept up, dashed to the shore, and dove into the water.  They paddled around, splashing through the waves, enjoying their surprising closeness.  Harry watched, spellbound, as Anwë breached the water, tossed his water soaked mane out of his eyes, then threw his head back and laughed freely. He was dazzled! The tawny young man was gentle, seductive, and powerful—a perfect introduction to sexual intimacy.  Harry had no idea how long the youth was staying on the island, but he had a good sense of how much he would enjoy their time together.

_TBC_


	6. Ch 6 Agitation

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer: This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Ch. 6 Agitation

"Leave me alone, please! Just leave me alone!" Ginny Weasley sobbed as she burst into her bedroom and flung herself on the bed. She was furious, distraught, and resentful. Grimmauld Place was in turmoil. They had no details, but apparently Harry Potter had been abducted or had run away from his relatives' home. Professor Dumbledore had been coordinating search parties to get any evidence about what had occurred. He'd asked the Weasleys to return to Order headquarters, where Molly could function as contact, caregiver, and resident chef for those reporting in from their missions.

After days of investigation, nothing had surfaced about Harry ("the poor dear!" Molly had wept into her handkerchief when she'd heard the news). From what could be deduced from the reluctant reports of those unpleasant muggles, the Dursleys, Harry had seemingly disappeared into thin air. Ron had been suspicious, shouting at his parents, "You knew how much they hated him! They took away his wand at the beginning of each summer, he even had to leave Hedwig with us because he was afraid they'd hurt her! They probably killed him, and disposed of his body weeks ago!" The wary stillness that followed his outburst was telling: was it possible that the Order had already begun to ponder that very possibility?

It had all become too much for Ginny. Even days after Ron's outburst, she could see how much they had allowed the abuse to go on just because they were too squeamish to push Harry to talk about it. Exactly what had gone on in that muggle household? How could they have allowed it? How could _she_ have allowed it? How could _she_, who felt such an emotional connection to the boy who had saved her life when she was just a first-year? How could _she_, who had grown up on stories of the Boy-Who-Lived and his triumph over the worst Dark Lord in ages? How could _she_ allow them to ignore and mistreat Harry Potter? She had been at the breakfast table with her family when she suddenly felt overwhelmed, and tears erupting, she threw down her napkin and rushed upstairs.

"Ginny?" Molly knocked on the slightly opened door. "Oh, Honey, we'll find him, don't you worry!" She gathered her youngest to her ample bosom.

"Mom! Dad!" They heard Ron's voice, squeaking with alarm. Keeping her arm around Ginny, Molly dashed up the next flight of stairs to Ron's room. He was standing in the center of the room, eyes scanning the room madly, holding what appeared to be a letter, but it was on paper, not parchment.

Ron looked up, eyes shining. "It's a letter from Harry!"

--

Later that day, Severus Snape entered his chambers, dusty and exhausted from his search. As one of the members of the Order who had grown up among muggles, he'd been in charge of the groups that had been scrutinizing the neighborhood around Privet Drive and searching the muggle newspapers. He'd also been inconspicuously trying to check on muggle hospitals and other official institutions.

"What news, Severus?" He spun around, wand out. Lupin's head floated in the green flames of his fireplace. Relaxing slightly, he made the wolf wait while he took off his black cardigan and replaced it a lightweight summer robe. Then, finally taking pity on his floo-caller, who was gazing at him anxiously, he muttered, "None, I'm afraid."

"But, Severus," questioned Lupin, "Didn't the new tracking spells give you any more information?"

"What part of _no news_ is difficult for you to grasp, Lupin?" Snape snarled.

"I'm sorry, Severus, I— " The concerned man's voice faltered at Snape's abrupt whirl around the room. "What's wrong Severus, shall I come through?" Lupin quickly asked, senses suddenly alerted.

Throwing up a hand to prevent further questions, Severus immediately saw what was out of place in his room. On his desk, nestled between his unfinished tea from the morning, and a stack of potions magazines waiting to be read, was a letter addressed to him, on what appeared to be high quality Muggle stationery. Casting detections that grew more and more powerful and dark at each negative response, he relaxed again, and turning to Lupin, asked harshly, "Was there anything else, Lupin?"

Taken aback, the other man took a calming breath, and then replied, "The headmaster has called an emergency meeting. You're to come to headquarters in—" he glanced away, behind him, then turned back to face Severus, "two hours."

Severus groaned, "I've just been searching for fourteen hours; are you certain my presence is absolutely necessary?"

With a small, worried smile, Lupin answered, "He didn't say what the meeting is about, but he did seem a little calmer than he'd been over the last few days. I sense that it has something to do with Harry."

Jolted, Severus almost dropped to the hearth in relief. _Was the boy alright? _ Wondering at his bewildering reaction, he hissed, "Well, if he's found the little ingrate, you'd think he'd say something so that those of us out scouring his neighborhood could stop wasting our time!"

"Severus, _I_ really appreciate your efforts—"

"Enough, Lupin! I will be there. If you don't mind, and even if you do, I have only a couple of hours to myself, and I'd rather not squander them with you. Good day!" Spinning on his heel, he strode towards his desk, ignoring the faint farewell before the floo died out.

Snatching up the letter, he let his mind mull over the vaguely familiar handwriting as he began to read.

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_Please, don't burn this yet! I wanted to write because I'd been meaning to tell you something for awhile now, but was too cowardly to do it properly. I hope you continue to read at least for a moment or two._

_I am very sorry that I violated your privacy by looking into your pensieve memories. It was horribly disrespectful, and while I can tell you why I did it, I know that there is no excuse for it. I simply wanted to let you know what was in my head (yes, there was something in it, surprise!) when I did it. _

_I thought that there was something in it that had to do with the Dark Lord and whatever the Order was guarding. I saw upon entering the memory that I was wrong, but then I saw my father. I don't remember him from when I was a baby, and only had a few pictures, so I have to admit that I stayed to just watch him a bit longer. I was appalled at his and Sirius' treatment of you! I have suffered from bullying, too, and what they did was inexcusable. I can only offer my apologies for their offensive behavior, and tell you that I've never shared what I saw with anyone. I realize that apologies don't change the events, but they're all I have to give to you._

_At any rate, if you've even read this far, I thank you for allowing me this opportunity again to beg your pardon. _

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

Severus dropped into his wingback chair, astonished. _That was certainly unexpected!_ He slipped his wand out of his sleeve, and tapping it on his cup, reheated the left-over tea. Sipping the steaming liquid, he sneered at the letter. From Lupin's response, it seemed that Dumbledore also received a letter from the brat. Hopefully, that missive detailed the little horror's whereabouts, as his was certainly not forthcoming in that area. What it did say, however, was unquestionably thought-provoking. If it was to be taken at face value, it seemed as if the wretched boy had actually spent a little time thinking about someone other than himself. Well, he would see.

Severus smiled sardonically. At any rate, the upcoming Order meeting should, without doubt, prove interesting.

--

"Hi, Honey, there's a letter here for you." Hermione looked up from the book she'd been reading. She didn't have her results yet from her OWLS, but she knew which classes she wanted to take, so she thought she'd do a little 'light reading.' She took the letter from her father, noting it was written on paper, not parchment, but the handwriting was Harry's. What was he doing, writing to her, when he was supposed to be incommunicado? She sighed, then asked, "Is his owl still here? I could send a quick reply."

"There was no owl, honey, or at least I didn't see one, it was just inside our mail slot." Her father smiled and headed out of her bedroom.

She beamed at Harry's messy scrawl, and opened the letter.

_Dear Hermione,_

_How are you? I know that we weren't supposed to be in contact, but I found a secure way to get a letter to you, and I needed to let you know what's going on in my life right now._

_First of all, now don't panic, but I'm not at Privet Drive anymore. I know, I know, I am supposed to be safe here, but I wasn't. Do you remember how the Dursleys have always not really treated me well? Well, for the past two years, the only way I could ensure that I got enough food, or that they wouldn't lock me up (at least when I wasn't doing all the house and yard work they had for me) was to threaten them with my crazed, escaped-convict godfather. Apparently, Professor Dumbledore had sent them a letter saying he had died, and that I was to have no contact with anyone all summer. They then knew that I had nothing to keep them from mistreating me again. I don't really want to get into details, but between the work, the fact that they didn't feed me well, and well, other things, I was in pretty bad shape very early into the holidays. That all changed after I was rescued by the most amazing people!_

_I am sure you remember the school year I had? Well, between my conflicts with the Ministry, my Quidditch ban, the visions from Voldemort, my abortive Occlumency lessons, Umbridge, and Cedric's and Sirius' deaths, this had been a horrifically stressful year. I realize now that I've been depressed pretty much all year, but it reached a new level after the Ministry debacle and a pretty unnerving talk with the Headmaster immediately after. That, combined with my mistreatment by the Dursleys, contributed to my sense of hopelessness, and I had pretty much given up._

_Well, I found out that some people had been checking up on me each summer. An incredibly perceptive, kind woman and her brother knew a little about my situation at the Dursleys, but they tended to be unwilling to interfere in other people's affairs. However, when she realized how deep my depression was, she made her presence known to me, decided that I really needed to get away from there,and brought me to her home._

_It's important that you understand it's really safe for me here. Their home is unplottable and the wards are stronger than the blood wards at Privet Drive, and even those of Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts. I know for a fact that the security here is unassailable. I recognize that Professor Dumbledore will not like it (you may tell him if you want), but frankly, this is a much more healthy place for me than anything he has devised, so I'm quite content. This is where I need to be right now, so this is where I'll stay until I feel ready to tackle the pressures of being the Boy-Who-Lived again._

_Since I've been here, I've gotten stronger both physically and emotionally. My rescuers/guardians have been wonderful! They have been a combination of psychologists, teachers, friends, trainers, advocates, and parents. It's incredible how they have begun to reverse some of my years of insufficient nutrition and physical mistreatment and most importantly, they've been so helpful in helping me deal with a lot of emotional issues. I feel almost like a new person!_

_You'll also be happy to hear that I've not been neglecting my studies. They made me realize how much I've missed over the years both because of my laziness and lack of background in the Wizarding world. At any rate, I've been revising my old lessons. Since I can't receive any owls here, I won't get my results from my exams, but at least I can get better at what I should have learned over the past five years! My guardians got copies of my old schoolbooks in New York City, plus some wonderful new resources that really help me to understand things I'd never given much thought to before, like how magic actually works, or how various preparations make a difference in potions. Yes, I recognize that you are probably rolling your eyes right now, but well, it was an eye opener for me! (smile)_

_As you probably deduced from where we shopped for books, I am not in Great Britain. My guardian's home is a lush, idyllic (and unplottable, etc) island in the Caribbean. Every day I am surrounded by the most incredible birds and animals, richly forested landscape, and charming, happy people. It is like a paradise vacation every day! I tell you all of this because I want you to know that while I am still mourning Sirius, I am also happier than I've ever imagined I could be in my life._

_Anyway, I know that you are obsessing over your OWLS results, if you haven't yet gotten them, and I know as well that you excelled at all of your exams. I will have to wait until I return, as I'd mentioned that no letters can make it through the security here right now. At any rate, I know this coming year will be a much better one for me, and I'm really looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts with my new work ethic and new attitude!_

_I hope you're enjoying your summer, and I can hardly wait to see you at Hogwarts!_

_Your friend,_

_Harry_

Hermione held the letter close to her chest, smiling at the new Harry she sensed from his correspondence. Then, she froze as the rest of his message hit her, hard.

_Oh Merlin, What is he thinking? Who are these people that he'd gone off with? What did he mean about the Dursleys' 'mistreatment,' has he been abused? And what about he'd 'given up?' Had he been suicidal? _

Her thoughts spinning around her head, she paused and took a long, deep breath. How could she alert someone to Harry's absence from Privet Drive? The owl bringing her subscription to the Daily Prophet wouldn't come until morning, and someone needed to know as soon as possible. She hated not being able to contact wizarding people easily. She stopped for another deep breath. Ok, so she couldn't get to Hogwarts to speak to Professor Dumbledore, but she could get to Grimmauld Place, and they could floo the headmaster from there. "Mom!" She called out, "Mom, I need to get to London, it's an emergency. Where's the train schedule?"

--

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? I know that we weren't supposed to be in contact, but I know that this is safe, and I wanted to let you know what's going on with me right now._

_First of all, I'm not at Privet Drive anymore. You know what a horrible year I had at school, and when I came back to the Dursleys' they were even worse than in the past. I was really depressed, starving, and exhausted, and just when I couldn't take it anymore, I was rescued!_

_A really kind woman and her brother had been checking up on me each summer. They knew a little about the situation at the Dursleys, but were unwilling to interfere in other people's affairs, until they realized how bad off I was, and that I really needed to get away from there._

_Well, she came to visit me at Privet Drive, and realized that I was so tired of it all that I wouldn't have survived the summer, so she brought me to her home. Before you panic, I need to say that it is really safe for me here. They both want only for me to get healthy again, so I have nothing to fear from them, their home is unplottable and the wards are stronger than even Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts. No one can reach me here, so please don't worry (and tell your mom not to worry, either!). I know Professor Dumbledore will not like it, but that can't be helped. This is where I need to be right now, so this is where I'll stay until I feel ready to tackle the Wizarding world and all its pressures again._

_Since I've been here, I've gained almost a stone, I've been running and working out every day, so most of it is muscle, though I've been also taking nutritional drinks that are similar to potions (though they taste much better), so I think I may have grown taller just a little, too! I feel so much more healthy than I can ever remember and I also feel happier—I've really had time to think about some of the difficult things in my past, and begun to deal with them, and I tell you I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders!_

_Well, enough about me—I hope your summer has been going well, and you've been flying—Gryffindor will need its Keeper to be sharp next year! Please, give my love to your family._

_Harry_

Albus Dumbledore reread the letter for what seemed the hundredth time as the last few stragglers came into the dark, shabby room that served as the meeting space for the Order of the Phoenix. The room was filled to bursting with the people involved in the search for the Boy-Who-Lived. There were mutters, nervous glances at the front of the room, whispered deliberations on the purpose of the meeting, but seeing their head sitting so calmly, there was actually less apprehension than at previous meetings.

Finally, seeing Severus, who never spent anymore time than was necessary at Grimmauld Place, enter, Dumbledore cleared his throat, and began. "Young Ron Weasley has received a letter from Harry Potter." Immediately, voices broke out, "Where is he?" "What happened?" "Was it You-Know-Who?"

When the noise did not die out, he held up a wizened hand and continued. "He was taken from Privet Drive by unknown persons, but it appears that he has not been harmed, and in fact, has been treated well. We do not right now know his location, but it is only a matter of time before we can retrieve him."

"What do you mean unknown persons? How do we know they really mean him no harm?" Lupin's voice, though quiet, cut through the latest set of murmurings.

"At the risk of agreeing with the wolf," Severus interjected, his intimidating voice a stark contrast to the gentle quality of Lupin's, "the reckless imbecile has absolutely no ability at judging other people. He would probably go with anyone who buoyed up his arrogant self-image!"

"I have indications from his letter that these people have watched out for him in the past," Dumbledore began, "And—"

"Then why don't we know about them, if they are acquaintances?" He was interrupted by Molly Weasley this time.

"We have to recognize that there was much about Harry's home life that we didn't know." Dumbledore noted, sadly.

"Headmaster," Again, Severus' dark baritone pierced the uncomfortable murmurs that permeated the room. "Anyone could have positioned themselves in the miscreant's neighborhood, slowly gaining his trust, for just this type of abduction. How else would they get him past the wards?"

"Very good point, Severus, we cannot assume that though expressing kind sentiments to young Harry, they did not have ulterior motives. That leads me to ask if you have heard anything at all from your last few meetings that would, perhaps in hindsight, give you reason to suspect this to be the actions of Voldemort?" He gazed at Severus, while noting with disappointment that most of the people in the room still shuddered at hearing the dreaded name.

"I have obviously not heard anything directly, and I believe that if something this important was in the planning stages, there would have been some excitement around the Dark Lord's circles. There has been absolutely nothing. In fact, as I'd noted before, he'd mentioned that he no longer can feel Potter's presence through the curse scar. He knows nothing about Potter's whereabouts.

"On another note, Headmaster," Severus continued, "What was the manner of delivery of Weasley's message from Potter?" Everyone turned to Molly and Arthur, who seemed bewildered by the question. They shrugged at each other quickly, then Molly answered, "We didn't ask, Severus, we just assumed that it was delivered by owl. Why?"

"Did you take the letter from the owl, or see one drop the letter?" He continued, implacably.

"No…."

"What is this about, Snape?" The harshly grating voice of Alastor Moody cut in.

"I received a letter from Potter as well, at approximately the same time as Weasley, it seems." There were sharp glances, and the volume of the muttering increased markedly. "I found it in my warded, sealed chambers, into which even a gnat couldn't slip, yet there it was on my desk. I am curious about the power of someone who can get into Hogwarts, and my quarters in the dungeons, undetected." Severus drawled silkily.

Dumbledore seemed disconcerted. He gazed before him, thinking rapidly, then asked, seemingly to keep the conversation going while he absorbed this information, "What was in your letter from young Harry, Severus?"

"He was apologizing for the actions which led to the end of his extra lessons." Not everyone knew of, or would approve of Severus giving Potter Occlumency lessons, so the fewer people that knew about them, the better, in his view.

"Why, how mature of him!" Dumbledore's eyes positively twinkled. "Perhaps we shall see a new young man when he returns to Hogwarts this fall!"

"_If_ he returns to Hogwarts!" Molly cried out. "What did you mean about this person being powerful? What could they want with poor Harry?"

The murmurings peaked as voices rang out with demands for more information, shouting out suggestions for tracking the boy, and just generally adding more emotions to the melee. Severus sat back, observing, but not participating in the various debates. It appeared a large number wanted to alert the Ministry, to call upon the Aurors to help search, while others, glancing towards his shadowed corner, reminded everyone of his reports on Death Eaters infiltration of the Ministry offices. Moody argued that it would alert Voldemort to Harry's absence, while Molly felt that the Ministry could put a trace on Harry, at which point, Severus was unable to sit quietly any longer.

"If it is possible that you remember the process, perhaps you could use your brain before spewing such idiocy?" Severus sneered. "How exactly would the Ministry trace Potter? His wand is here, with his trunk and other worldly belongings." He was taken aback at the volume of the debate. Had no one realized what it meant that Potter had taken nothing with him? Were the simpletons that forgetful? His fuming was interrupted by a knock on the sitting room door, and one of the Weasley twins stuck in his head.

"Sorry to barge in, but Hermione Granger just took a train and a taxicab here to see you, Headmaster. She says that Harry is no longer in England!"

_TBC_


	7. Ch 7 Exhilaration II: Song of the Woods

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer: This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N #1 Sorry I've been incommunicado--I had some RL issues, but they are resolved, so I'll be back to posting a chapter ever 2-3 weeks. The whole story is sketched, with many scenes already written, and I only post when I have at least 2-3 more chapters already written and being proofed (I'm still looking for a serious, reliable beta, so that slows down the proof reading a bit), but never fear, I WILL keep posting on this story!

A/N #2 I've just figured out the reply feature to reviews, so if I've missed yours, my sincerest apologies. I will be better about responding to reviews in the future (hint-hint)!

* * *

Ch. 7 Exhilaration II: Song of the Woodsman

Harry opened one eye. There was a tousled head of golden-bronze hair on the pillow next to him. _So, last night wasn't a dream._ He snorted softly. _I couldn't even **begin **to dream that much fun!_

He'd never before enjoyed himself as much as he had at the feast for the Andean expedition. The big party had been filled with laughter, good food, and the delicious wine for which the Caribbean Folk were famous. The wine was light, satisfied one's thirst almost immediately, and tasted good with any sort of food. It made one slightly inebriated, but more importantly, it seemed to make everything, and everyone, shine with beauty and joy. Harry could definitely get used to drinking it.

The Folk loved to celebrate with feasting and merrymaking. Harry sat in the shadows, soaking in the singing and dancing, watching the golden firelight playing upon the leaping bodies and shimmering in the hair of the singers and instrumentalists. There were drums, guitars, deep-voiced horns, flute-like devices, harps, and shakers of all kinds. Several people from his new-found family would try to convince him to join in, but smiling shyly, he remained in his seat, content to simply observe.

He finally tuned into the song Carnesir and his daughter Lycia were singing. It was about him! To a low, pulsating accompaniment of drums and horns, they sang of their new 'brother,' how he joined them from across the sea, and of his bravery and strength. During the riotous applause that burst out at the song's end, the two came over and kissed Harry, who was speechless at the unexpected honor. There were several songs about Durondel, and his strength and power (_Suck-ups!_ Harry snorted), and then Anwë stood up.

Looking straight at Harry, the beautiful young man sang a song of passion and yearning. It was in Spanish, but through the Elemental's ability to speak directly to each other's minds, Harry understood every word. Anwë sung of lips crashing together, of skin delighting against skin, of emotion and lust and desire. There may have been applause after, but caught up in staring at the Ecuadorean youth, Harry was oblivious of any sound save his heart pounding in his chest and the rasp of his own breathing.

The spell was broken when his cousin, Sarodel, grabbed both his and Anwë's hands and dragged them out to the other dancers. At first, Harry just stood, smiling, while the other two moved their feet, hips, and arms, their eyes closed, letting the pounding music dictate their movements. Finally, realizing how much fun everyone else was having, and seeing that no one was even looking at him, he relaxed and let the rhythm seep into his muscles, bobbing his head with the beat, and letting the throbbing pace stir up his hips and legs.

He was having such fun that he barely noticed when the music had changed to a slow, sensual beat with a vaguely Spanish wail. He did notice that the dancers had thinned out a bit, and then realized his cousin had left and he was dancing with just Anwë, who at that moment, moved closer and put his arms around Harry's waist. Brown eyes glittering, he gazed at Harry a moment before asking, in his accented English, "Is this alright?" Harry nodded, and breathing in and out deeply, pulled the other boy closer and sighed, "It's wonderful."

By the end of the night, Harry had shed many of his inhibitions. He'd danced with his 'mom,' Lycia and Carnesir, and several more times with Anwë, becoming more wild and free with each passing hour (and a few more glasses of elemental wine).

The beauty of wine made by the Folk, Harry mused, watching the chest of his new-found lover rise and fall with his breathing, is that there were no hangovers the next day. Stretching and yawning widely, he glanced at the pink-striped sky where the sun was rising over the horizon. _When I go back to Hogwarts, I have to make sure that there is an uninterrupted supply line of that beverage!_

_

* * *

  
_

"Come on, Harry James, focus. You can do this!" Carnesir's voice called out from the ground. Harry had managed to levitate himself up in the top branches of a tall tree. Now, he was to step out into the air, and allow it to gently lower him to the ground. _Are they mad?_ he thought, his mind filled with images of his shattered body at the foot of the tree. He gave himself a little shake. _Come on, listen to the man. Focus!_

He quietly uttered what he thought of as an incantation (but the Folk simply called 'requests'): "Transparent and clear, heavy and full, supportive and cleansing, element of air: I ask you to set me gently on the bosom of the earth my mother, and thank you for your filling my lungs and supporting my body in this task." Taking a deep breath of air—which coincidentally, seemed a bit sweeter and richer than it had a moment before—he decided that he trusted his family, if not his ability. They'd said it would work, and they would know. He let go of the branch he'd been clutching tightly and stepped out into the open air, and—floated! He stood upright, with nothing immediately below him but the ground about 50 yards down. Beaming, he said, "Down, please," and when his feet touched the leaf-covered loam, he exclaimed, "I thank you!" With a last caress, the breeze swept off towards a nearby valley. He'd done it!

The past few days had been a blurred flurry of activity. He'd had sessions with Carnesir and several other teachers on the island. He'd learned to elevate himself and small objects. Not being a full Elemental, those few feats were all that he could expect to do, but it was more the connection with the elements that the Folk wanted him to learn rather than techniques of elemental magic. He remembered sitting with Durondel one evening as the leader of the Cabrëanea Folk explained Elemental magic.

"_You see, child, we do not 'control' or dictate to the elements. The reason we are so adept with them is because we revere their power and benevolence. They, in turn, cherish and assist us out of their generous natures. It is a wondrous bond, one that nourishes and sustains the Folk. We trust in their goodwill, and because of that trust, we are always disposed to call upon them and they are disposed to answer."_

In addition to his tutoring with the men, Eleässa had taken him to swim not only in the ocean, but also in the many rivers and lakes of the island. Reminding him that water was the element most closely associated with feelings, she felt that swimming and meditation would be immensely helpful in his continued emotional growth and healing. He snickered as he thought of himself swimming with the Giant Squid back at Hogwarts, but anything that would help him to feel as good as he did now would be well worth it. Water was most certainly not an element that he was comfortable with, like air and possibly fire, but therefore it was the one that he needed the most practice with, Eleässa reminded him constantly.

One of their swims, in a crystal clear, turquoise lake in the island's richly forested interior, became the catalyst for a life-changing discussion. Floating in the water, feeling its ebb and flow, Harry had begun to recognize that the very nebulous quality of water, its changeability, the way in which it was so powerful yet could also be very gentle, was the perfect mirror of human emotions. He thought that often, his feelings were so ephemeral that he couldn't even figure out what they were, at other times, they were so overwhelming that he literally couldn't move or speak. Even the way they often welled up within him was like the sensation of water spurting up from a spring or against a rock.

Harry also realized how much more expressive he'd become over the past month, both verbally, and through art, dancing, and even a little singing. He'd even started to write a song about his beautiful new mother (the Folk were constantly improvising or composing songs about their lives and dreams, it was their most popular form of entertainment), but would probably be too embarrassed to ever sing it to her. He sometimes felt as if he were a totally different person from the miserable, quietly desperate boy who had been cutting himself at Hogwarts and Privet Drive. Other times, when the thoughts of Sirius or Cedric would arise, he'd appreciated how much he had accomplished in his counseling and meditation sessions. He had been able to look at those situations with clearer, though no less saddened, eyes.

Harry thought back over the busy, activity-packed days following the big feast. He had spent a great deal of time with Anwë, hours of swimming, hiking, and laughter interspersed with deliriously sweet episodes of snogging and sex. He would often drag the beautiful, dusky youth back to the city in the trees, where they would sing, tell tall-tales and jokes, and play games with his cousins. The magic sessions, the healing water encounters, the play times, all contributed to a feeling of joy and well-being that Harry had never before experienced in his short life. Both of the boys recognized that they were not emotionally attached to each other, and with Anwë returning to Ecuador at the end of the week and Harry going back to Scotland at the end of the summer, they probably would not remain in touch. However, for Anwë, Harry made what might have been a tedious trip 'mas enjoyable,' and for Harry, time spent with the elemental was delightfully eye-opening exploration of pleasurable pursuits.

Harry jolted back to the present as a wave of water broke over his face. Snorting water, he lifted his head from his floating position to see Eleässa, lips curled into a grin, eyes radiant, caught in the midst of gathering another large swell of water to toss at him. Diving quickly, he kicked and in one strong surge, ducked under her gently paddling feet to come up behind her. Astonished at his quickness, she flailed a moment before her element gently righted her, and then she twirled to face her son.

"I can hardly believe how quickly you are learning!" she exclaimed, delighted.

"Hey, even if I can never fully comprehend the emotional aspects of water, I've really learned to love swimming," he called back, moving swiftly toward a pool into which one of the many waterfalls on the island fell. Eleässa quickly followed, and they began racing each other madly toward the rocky pool. Upon reaching it, they pulled themselves up on the rocks, laughing through gasps of breath as they lay in the dappled sunshine.

After catching her breath, Eleässa turned to Harry, lying on her side, elbow on the rock, her head resting on her hand. "You were joking, but even though water is not your element, you have really surpassed everyone's expectations of how much you would learn in such a short time."

Harry rose, sitting up cross-legged. He ducked his head shyly, but preened under his mom's praise. It was something to which he was gradually becoming accustomed. As a child, he'd learned early not to expect approval from the Dursleys. In the wizarding world, he was generally lauded for something over which he'd had no control—the first defeat of Voldemort. Aside from Quidditch, it was rare that anyone had complimented him for any achievement of his own. He'd received more genuine approbation—from people whose esteem he valued—in the past month than in his entire previous life.

"Well, I've never learned anything this fast before, and it was challenging, but exciting, too." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I feel like I have begun to understand things like how magic works, and why I do things the way I do, and the reasons that people may react to me as they have. I really feel as if I have the tools to take care of myself without having to depend on you or my lord uncle to put me together after an emotional outburst." Harry used the formal address for Carnesir.

He'd quickly learned upon arrival on Cabrëanea that his mother was an important woman. The leader of the Folk was selected by magical rituals. While none knew why a particular person was chosen, the leaders were generally wise, experienced, and magically powerful. Durondel, Eleässa's father, had been leader of the Folk on the island for over a millennium, and members of his family were the elemental equivalent of royalty in the human world. As such, while there was not the bowing and scraping seen in human monarchy, the Folk respected the unique talents and power of the members of Durondel's family. Carnesir, for example, was known for his healing skills, and both the Folk and the humans who lived on Cabrëanea would walk from the far side of the island just to talk with Eleässa, who had the ability to lift the spirits. Even the children of their family were exceptionally gifted. Harry felt honored that they'd accepted him, but was also exceedingly thankful that he'd 'lucked' into a family whose gifts dovetailed with what he'd needed.

While the leading family tended to not stand on ceremony, they often used titles of respect for each other, using what could be stilted forms of address with warm affection. The words, 'my lady' or 'my lord' would thus preface the term of familiar relationship. Harry cherished the custom, and used 'my lady mother' as often as he used the American phrase, 'Mom."

Eleässa smiled gently as she sat up, squeezing water out of her hair. She started to twist it, but Harry moved over closer, and sliding behind her, began to card his fingers through the long, curly tresses, smoothly working out the tangles. Satisfied, he began to braid lightly, allowing a few strands to curl softly around her face.

"I think, child, that you will soon be able to deal quite well on your own at your school, but I will always be available, as will Carnesir, should you need us."

Harry continued braiding, asking softly, "So how long do you think you'll stay in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Well, I thought about a month, but there is something that I need to ask you, and depending upon your answer, it may be a little longer." She squinted into the sun, then conjured two cool globes of water. Harry, still amazed at elemental magic, smiled his thanks, took several deep swallows of the water, feeling the cool freshness soak into his system, then resumed his task. "Whatever it is, I don't care—I'd love to have you stay with me at Hogwarts as long as possible!"

"I'm glad you feel that way. I really don't think we've had enough time together before such a long separation, either.

"At any rate, I want to know if you would like to go through with the full adoption rites. Now, before you answer," and she held up her hand to forestall his interruption, "I have to tell you that the process is quite arduous, and holds no little danger in some of its aspects. In addition, if your answer is yes, it will delay your return to school by about a month, as there is more involved training that you will have to begin under the tutelage of my lord father and Carnesir. You will also have to continue your training once you return to school, so it will take time away from your studies."

As Eleässa laid out the various preparations and types of training he'd have to undergo in advance of his rite of passage and the actual adoption ceremony, Harry listened with one ear while he looked back over the past seven weeks. He thought of the pain and anguish of his counseling sessions, the incredible growth he'd made physically, emotionally and mentally: the exercise, the revising of his old school work, the discussions of magic and emotions and politics and culture. He thought of the delightful people that he'd met and who had become his family. He thought of the sexual discoveries he'd made about himself, encouraged by the open attitudes of the Folk. He was acutely aware of how much stronger and in control he felt, of his new sense of personal responsibility, and his new clear-eyed perspective of the world. He knew that it could have only happened because of his association with Eleässa and her family, the members of the city among the trees, and the humans who inhabited Cabrëanea.

It was then that he realized that he'd fallen irrevocably, relentlessly, fiercely in love. He was in love with the Folk! He was irresistibly drawn to their customs, their amusements, their sunny way of life. He adored their passion and childlike delight with their surroundings, and watched fondly as they devoted their entire being to such simple things as weaving cloth or making wine. If the possibility of belonging to such a magnificent culture was offered to him, there was no way that he would ever refuse. He would gratefully accept the invitation to become a full-fledged member of his new family and new people!


	8. Ch 8 Deferral of Delight

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer: This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Ch. 8 Deferral of Delight

Hermione sighed as she put her book down. She'd been reading _Hogwarts: A History_, thinking that it would take her mind off of her friend, but even her most treasured wizarding books allowed her frantic mind no respite from worry. She put the book down, thinking that maybe she'd sit in the back yard for a bit. The sun and fresh air might lift her spirits

As she stood and stretched, moving towards the entrance hall, she thought back over the past few weeks. The Weasleys had returned to the Burrow upon the discovery that while they had no idea where Harry was, he was not in any danger, at least for the time being. Hermione left Grimmauld Place with them, and had spent the day and evening catching up with Ron and Ginny. She was unnerved at how calmly everyone took the news of Harry's absence.

"But no one has any idea where he is!" She had fumed, furious at what she viewed as their nonchalance.

"Look, Hermione, we have no way of finding him right now, and he said he's fine!" Ginny had snapped.

"So that's alright, then! He could be writing under duress, or he could be delirious. The letter could even be a forgery!"

"No, it can't be. Both Snape and Dumbledore cast any number of detection spells on all of the letters." Ron's voice had the effect of easing the growing tension between the two girls.

"The letters were definitely written by Harry, and as far as they can detect, what he wrote was the truth, at least as far as he knew when he was writing it. There was no coercion or force connected with his statements."

Hermione's hair was growing frizzier with each passing moment. She knew that wizards often thought differently than Muggles and Muggle-born, but when she was confronted with those differences, she was always taken aback. Their confidence that magic had all of the answers was alarming to her at times, even while she could still be entranced by the incredible things that magic could do.

"Look, even if he believes that he is well, that is no true indication that his situation is safe. He could be Confounded or tricked."

A door opened out from the Burrow into the back garden in which the teens were ensconced and the twins joined the three.

"Just because Dumbledore is discontinuing many of the search teams—" George began.

"Doesn't mean that he is giving up on more subtle means—" Fred continued.

"Of finding Harry. We just heard that he is going to use Hedwig—"

"To try and look for our young lad!"

Hermione had shaken her head, dizzy from trying to follow the twin-speak, but she had been heartened that the investigation was not being completely halted.

She had taken the Knight Bus home, dismayed that she hadn't thought of it initially. Since then, she had become more and more agitated with the lack of information from Professor Dumbledore or the Weasleys. She finally understood how Harry must have felt the summer before, when she, Ron, Ginny, and the twins were all at Grimmauld Place while Harry was locked away at Privet Drive. And they weren't allowed to tell him anything about the Order for fear their letters might be intercepted.

She had reread the letter so many times the paper was beginning to wear thin along the creases as she unfolded and folded it repeatedly. What had Harry meant by his "mistreatment" at his relatives' house? She knew that he hated living with them, but she had always assumed that it was because of petty annoyances or slights. Surely, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have let Harry stay there if there had been serious neglect or violence? She recalled now that the twins had said something about bars over Harry's bedroom window, and she shuddered. The implication of the massive amounts of food that Mrs. Weasley sent Harry on his birthday in past summers was inescapable, particularly as she remembered how thin her friend would be during the first weeks of term after the summer holidays.

Hermione almost wept. She thought back to her first few weeks at Hogwarts. Her thirst for knowledge and her barely containable need to prove herself in class had begun to make her as unpopular there as she'd been at primary school. She could hear the whispers, "Know-it-All," "Show-Off," when she walked through the corridors, and though they cut cruelly, she was at a loss as to how she could change. She was an only child, very comfortable spending most of her time with adults, and her parents had always encouraged her to be proud of her intelligence. While she realized that the other students resented her, she had no idea how to change her behavior to make a friend or two, and she knew even less about how to assimilate with children her own age.

Halloween of that year had changed all of that. After Harry had saved her from the troll, she'd latched onto the gentle boy and found a dear friend. It was almost as if he understood her loneliness and had become a supporter and ally in her struggle to keep from becoming immersed in her books and isolated from real life. She knew that he probably had no clue about her fears, but he had included her in his conversations and adventures after that, and she was desperately grateful. It was actually through his friendship that she'd opened up to her classmates in Gryffindor, and had begun to develop emotional connections with people outside her family for the first time in her life.

Now, she had discovered that her best friend, the person who had made her Hogwarts years not only bearable, but exciting, fun, and companionable, had lived a life of "mistreatment"! Knowing how cavalier the authorities had been to Harry in the past, she was pretty sure that there had been no investigation of his situation. It had to have been terrible, if he had been, as he'd written, hopeless and depressed!

Shaking her head, she poured a glass of water in the kitchen and took a handful of carrots to munch on as she sunbathed. Going back down the corridor, she noticed a letter by the mail slot. _That's odd, I thought the mail had come already today._ Even before she could see the handwriting, she recognized the heavy, formal paper, and snatched up her second letter that summer from her friend. Hands trembling, she opened the letter.

_Dear Hermione,_

_How has your summer been so far? Did you get your O.W.L. results? How did you do, all O's?_

_I am looking forward to finding out how I did. Regardless of my results, I will drop Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. Even thought I love Hagrid, he is not the best teacher, and except for some hands-on experience, I can learn about magical creatures as well, if not better, from books than I could from his class. As for Divination, I just took it because Ron did, and it has obviously been a huge waste of my time._

_Instead, I hope to take Arithmancy and Runes. I've been studying several books on the subject this summer, and even if I am too far behind to get into the classes, I think I'll still study them on my own._

_The real reason that I am writing is because I will not be returning to Hogwarts at the beginning of term. Now, don't get into a tizzy! I __**am**__ coming back, it's just that there will be a little delay. There are some personal things that I have to take care of before I return. I'll tell you more about it when we can meet face-to-face. _

_Please don't worry. I am better than I've ever been in my life. I will be writing to the headmaster, so he will know not to expect me, but I should arrive within a few weeks. It's funny, I don't even know what classes I'll be able to take, but I feel more prepared this year than I ever have after summer holidays—this has to be a first for me!_

_Take care of yourself, and take good notes in class!_

_Your friend, Harry_

* * *

"Please, come in, Headmaster." Severus had several vials lines up on his laboratory counter as he feverishly wrote in his journal the details of the last batch of brewing. Professor Dumbledore waited patiently, knowing that he'd get little from his Potions Master until his record keeping was done.

"Thank you for your patience, I just wanted to finish my comments." Severus thought a moment, and then scribbled one more note before looking up. "As you know this potion is quite experimental, and I had to produce several versions to come up with one that will be useful."

"Of course, of course, my boy." Dumbledore responded, eagerly. "Tell me what you've devised."

"My understanding is that you've tried locator spells, you've scryed for the boy, and even visited that charlatan up in the North Tower?"

"I would hardly call Sybil Trelawney a charlatan, Severus." Dumbledore reproved gently.

"Well, what would you call a woman who professes to be a Seer, yet has only had two correct predictions in her life?"

"Yes, well," a pause, "at any rate, yes, Severus, let us just say that I've exhausted the possibilities available to me."

"This potion," Severus motioned to the bottles before him, "once it has soaked in something from Potter's body, should be used to paint an owl, preferably his own if you can get her. Properly prepared, she should be able to get through any wards constructed by Dark Magic."

"You're confident of this?" Dumbledore gazed at the vials, uncomfortable with the Dark nature of the potion.

"I am certain, Headmaster." Severus leaned back against his desk. "If there is anything I know, it's the use of potions in the Dark Arts. I must remind you, however, that if the wards are not dark the potion will be ineffective. Are _you_ sure that they are?" he asked, curious.

"They have to be," Dumbledore responded with assurance. "At the risk of sounding immodest, there are no Light secrecy or concealing wards or spells that can resist my detection methods. The wards would have to be Dark." He paused, remembering another question. "Why do you insist that we send Harry's owl rather than try to use Fawkes?"

"The potion will contain some part of the brat, like a hair from his brush. Since the owl is intimately acquainted with the boy, that familiarity will power the potion. In return, the potion will mask her presence, thereby allowing her to circumvent the wards. If we put a locator amulet and tracking spells on her, you should be able follow her journey to discern exactly where he is.

"Then let's get right to it, shall we?" Dumbledore stood. "Harry's owl and his trunk are in my office. The sooner we attend to this, the sooner we can have the boy back with us."

They walked quickly to the Headmaster's office. Upon entering, Severus noted Potter's magnificent snowy owl perched above the battered school trunk. Almost immediately, though, his eyes were drawn to a letter resting prominently in the middle of Dumbledore's desk. They glanced at each other, both recognizing the exquisite Muggle stationery and the handwriting.

Dumbledore sank into his chair behind the desk, and quickly opened the letter, rapidly scanning the lines of the missive. "It is even more imperative that we locate the boy. I fear that something or someone is wielding a great deal of influence over young Harry, and I find it most disquieting."

Frowning, he turned, handing Severus the letter, who watched as the older wizard began rummaging in Potter's trunk. Severus thought, _Just like the boy to start a new series of crises just as school is beginning._ He began to read as he saw the headmaster pull a comb out of the trunk and drew a few hairs from it, placing them on the desk before closing the trunk back. Focusing on the letter, he read, noting the handwriting much improved over the scrawls decorating the drivel the boy tended to turn in for his Potions essays.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_I am writing to inform you that I will have to delay my return to Hogwarts. Some things have arisen that I want to take care of before coming back to England, and so I believe that I will arrive sometime around the end of September. I understand that it will put me at a serious disadvantage in my classes, but this delay is unavoidable._

_I would like to assure you that I am well, I am not being held against my will, nor am I being manipulated mentally or emotionally (though I suppose I would be in no position to tell if I was). I can only promise you that this delay will be extremely important for my well-being in the long term._

_I do apologize for any inconvenience or confusion this may cause._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry James Potter_

Severus snorted. _How like the Boy-Who-Lived! Telling the Headmaster when he would deign to return to school. He probably found it interfered with his schedule of beach parties._ Severus was slightly curious, though, about the reason for the delay, though he would never admit it. If the letters could be trusted, Potter was much more serious about his learning than he'd been in the past, though that wouldn't take much. What had been happening to him over the past few weeks to cause such a change? Was it just the new, supportive environment? It would be markedly different from his situation at his relatives' or even that of Hogwarts, Severus mused.

Holding this newest letter in her hand, Severus pulled out his wand and said, "O_rigo revelo!_" (1) After several seconds, a mist arose from the rich paper, wafting about his head. After waiting several seconds more, peering into the mist, the Potions Master sighed, and ended the spell. "Still nothing, Headmaster. The letter is free of any distinguishing characteristics that would aid us in locating the boy."

"Just as were the previous letters. Never fear, this combination spell and potion should render young Harry's whereabouts more detectable." Dumbledore handed the hairs to Severus, who opened the vial and dropped them in.

The fragrance that drifted up from the newly combined potion smelled of brisk morning air, chocolate, pumpkin, and broom wax. Severus closed his eyes momentarily, and only just stopped himself from inhaling deeply when he saw Dumbledore's head snap toward him. Avoiding the wily old wizard's eyes, he moved quickly over to Hedwig, and talking softly, coaxed the owl onto his forearm.

The owl gazed attentively, unmoving, as Severus saturated her feathers with the potion. He was unnerved at how aware she seemed of their plan. As she lifted her wings to aid in drying them, her head swiveled, causing her to appear to shrug, as if to say, "I know this won't work, but you won't give up until we've tried everything, so let's have at it."

Chanting softly, Dumbledore attached a small bronze medallion to Hedwig's leg. Severus moved to the open window. Giving her a slight caress, he lifted his arm, and she took off, rapidly shrinking as she sped away.

* * *

Severus entered his chambers after another frustrating meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. With little information, they'd still managed to waste two hours on trying to guess what kind of training Harry might be getting, with whom he might be, and what they should tell the public.

"We've managed to keep things quiet, but Harry's absence will be patently obvious once the Hogwarts Express leaves London," Lupin had noted.

The din grew as people discussed among themselves their suggestions and worries. Finally, Moody had stomped up to Dumbledore and asked, pointedly, "What news do we hear from among the Death Eaters about Potter?"

Dumbledore had gazed intently at Moody, who stared back, unflinching. Sighing, Dumbledore replied, "Severus has noted several times that there has been no indication that they know Harry is not at his usual summer safe house."

Moody snorted, "And you believe that?"

"You curse-happy half-wit, try, if you can, to not be such an unalloyed paranoiac for a few minutes," Snape hissed. "If the Dark Lord had Potter, there are two most probably scenarios. Either he would have called at least his Inner Circle to observe the boy's no doubt extended torture, or he would kill him immediately to remove the threat that has been plaguing him for sixteen years. Thus far, he has done neither. Evidence enough, I would assume, for even the feeble-minded among us." He ignored the mutters, as well as Molly Weasley's wail at his comments, though he did return the retired Auror's burning glare.

Lupin's thoughtful voice cut through the melee as he said, looking at Severus, "Didn't you say that You-Know-Who could no longer sense Harry through his scar? Would that mean that whatever is keeping us from locating him is also protecting him from detection from the Death Eaters as well?"

Severus winced. He knew that the Headmaster hadn't shared the extent of Harry's connection to the Dark Lord with everyone in the Order. No one besides Dumbledore, Severus, Lupin, Potter (and presumably, his two sidekicks), and the Dark Lord himself knew that Harry had been possessed during the incident at the Ministry. If word got out that the Boy-Who-Lived had been possessed by the Dark Lord, rumors would start flying again about the boy going dark, and Severus knew that Dumbledore wanted Potter in the public eye as little as possible.

Fortunately, everyone at the meeting had assumed that Lupin was referring to the pain the boy felt when Voldemort was feeling intense emotion. The voices rose again, this time with a decidedly more positive tenor. _The same imbeciles who were twittering about Potter's safety a moment ago are now certain that he is surrounded by protection_, Severus snorted to himself. _Daft sheep, the lot of them._

Dumbledore had finally brought the meeting to a close with the injunction that everyone was to continue explorations of what Severus felt was the fruitless pursuit of Harry's whereabouts. Dumbledore would let word 'leak' that Harry was delayed by special training, which seemingly wasn't far from the truth. "The longer we can keep Tom from the knowledge that young Harry isn't under our care, the better chance we have of his returning safely," he had said, ending the meeting with a solemn nod.

Severus removed his outer robes, and pouring a glass of brandy, sat and mulled over the mystery that was Harry Potter: his shockingly horrendous home life, his new behavior and choices, and what he would be like when (_or if_, his cynical mind supplied) he returned to Hogwarts. One thing that Severus could definitively say, Harry Potter was nothing like his father, at least in the mind of someone who knew all of James Potter's flaws and faults. Another thing Severus could definitively say, the new school year would certainly be interesting for everyone at Hogwarts, but particularly for those charged with the safety and care of the Boy-Who-Lived.

(1) "_Reveal the place of origin_"

A/N Hi all, I'm curious. I've had thousands of hits on the story, I'm listed as favorite for something like 50 people, but I only have 30 reviews. I'm not going to hold this story hostage to reviews, I hate it when fanfic writers do that. And if the story is a throw-off for you, that's fine, too. However, if you like it, would you take a moment and tell me why? It let's me know what's working (and what's not). Plus, we authors could do with some love! I write because I want to get my take on Harry & Co. out to the world, but it's always nice to know if the world likes it. Concrit is always welcome,too!

Also, life is kicking me in the butt, so as you probably noticed, my update rate will be closer to once a month than every couple of weeks, though I hope that changes soon!


	9. Ch 9 Delight

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer: This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N Sorry this is so delayed. RL, though good, has been packed. I plan on posting more regularly from now on. Remember, reviews/comments/feedback encourages writers!

* * *

Ch. 9 Delight

"So, you believe that Anwë actually liked you, that he thought you were attractive? Please, just stop lying to yourself!" Durondel whispered, his voice sharp with disappointment and disgust, "You're pathetic!"

Harry whimpered slightly. He was standing in the midst of a bright clearing deep in the interior of the island. The only sounds were the snuffles of a wild boar in the distance, the chattering of the small island marsupials in the branches mingling with the chirps of the brightly colored local birds, and the quiet padding of his adoptive grandfather and uncle as they circled around him.

"You dared touch that boy? You had the nerve to put your filthy, common, human hands on one of the Folk?" Carnesir spat. "Wasn't it enough that you taint your own people? Wasn't it enough that you put your friends in danger year after year? That your actions caused the deaths of your classmate and your godfather?"

Durondel continued. "It's just as your professor has said. Your arrogance knows no bounds, and your self-importance and thoughtlessness has wreaked havoc throughout your career at Hogwarts. You are a disaster waiting to happen, and in fact, every time you try to 'help' someone, it becomes a debacle! You are an affront to the name of wizard, and you dare to try to become a member of the Folk?"

As tears leaked from his clenched eyes, Harry wished he could dampen his hearing. The current insults he was hearing blended with those of his past. He felt as if he had again been thrown into his cupboard, his head resounding with Vernon Dursley's epithets and invective. As if reading his thoughts, Carnesir took up the gauntlet. His voice, normally so filled with compliments and assurances, slid in and out of Harry's ears like a lethifold seeking a dark corner. "But your professor didn't know the half of it, did he? It takes those who have known you since you were a babe to really understand what you are made of, doesn't it? They know who you are… what you are. And what do they call you? 'Abomination!' 'Freak!' 'Abnormal!' And that's what you are, isn't it?"

_I'm a freak, I'm unnatural. Why did I ever think that I could escape that fact?_ Harry thought dumbly. _ No, it's not true, it's not!_ Harry screamed in his head as he almost collapsed. He tried to force himself to calm down, but his guilt and doubts arose, and his habitual self-flagellation reared its gory head. He tried to shove his emotions aside, to suppress the feelings of inadequacy that he'd thought subdued by his counseling sessions. How could he still be suffering from the old self-loathing and fears? Why was he still being tormented?

Harry stilled. _I'm a moron_, he thought, a surprised, quiet chuckle escaping his lips. _If I haven't learned anything from counseling, I've learned that I'm being tormented because I'm allowing myself to be!_ Shuddering slightly, he closed his eyes, drew upon the meditative techniques he'd been practicing for the past few weeks, and allowed all of his new, positive emotional encouragement to quickly flow through his mind. He remembered that it was not him, but Voldemort that had the Tri-Wizard tournament cup bespelled as a Portkey and ordered Cedric's death. He remembered the number of times he'd tried to get his friends to remain at Hogwarts when he'd thought Sirius was held captive at the Ministry. He allowed himself to remember that Sirius alone had made the decision to leave the safety of Grimmauld Place.

Calm prevailed over his previously turbulent thoughts. He could still hear the nasty, mean-spirited comments on his mistakes and his behavior with one part of his mind, but he increased the volume of his new, constructive reasoning. He knew that he could be confrontational and hot-headed, impulsive and self absorbed, but he knew also that he was valued and loved by his friends and family. He was loving, he was a good friend, and he was kind, gentle, and courageous. The insults and abuse faded as he centered himself, breathing evenly.

Silence, then, "Well done, child." At his uncle's voice, Harry opened his eyes. Carnesir and Durondel were smiling, pleased and proud. His uncle opened his arms, and Harry quickly moved into his embrace. The older man held him closely, kissing the top of the boy's head.

"You did it, Harry James!" Durondel crowed. "I could see that you wanted to fall back into your old patterns. Instead, you overcame that habitual response. What did you do?"

Harry beamed as they began the walk back to elemental city. This had been the final test, which he'd passed! "Well, I just remembered something that my lord uncle told me early on," he nodded to Carnesir, his eyes sparkling, "that I create my own emotional responses. I can react by letting my uncertainties overwhelm me, or I can react by looking at the situation logically. Giving myself permission to take a step back, dispassionately, keeps me from a knee-jerk response, and keeps me from dropping into my old emotional routines."

"Well, I can honestly say that you are ready to return to your school," Durondel revealed, ruffling the hair of the newest addition to his family.

"Really?" Harry leapt up, punching the air. "Yes!"

"Just recognize, youngling, that you will have to continue training once you return, in preparation for your trial," the Elemental leader continued.

"I know," Harry agreed eagerly, "This training is so cool!"

"And we will constantly monitor your progress," Durondel added.

"Of course," Harry said, already planning his journey back to Scotland. "But you don't understand—I look _forward_ to continuing, I never knew you could have so much fun learning stuff! I can't wait to get back to school with my new skills!"

It was heady, the changes that had been made in his way of dealing with life. He didn't feel like a new person—no, he was still the same Harry. He felt, however, that he was a new, improved version of the Harry Potter that had lived all of those years at Privet Drive and Hogwarts. The wind was changing, and blowing in a better life for him.

* * *

"Here's the book list. I just ran into the bookstore in your Diagon Alley and they had several posted there, so I took one." Elëassa tossed a piece of parchment onto the sand next to where Harry listening to his CD player. He'd discovered rock and roll music, particularly punk rock and hip-hop, and he felt he'd found another outlet for his raging teenage emotions! He and Elëassa had hopped over to Miami for a quick lunch and some music shopping, and he'd come back with a player and a shopping bag full of CDs.

He'd become a fan of such punk revivalists as Nirvana, Green Day, Rancid, The Offspring, and Bad Religion, and rappers Wu-Tang Clan, Nas, Public Enemy, and Mos Def. The fervent teen eagerly ate up any magazines that discussed his new obsession, and he quickly became knowledgeable about the pop music scene both in the US and UK.

He was trying to figure out how he could power his electronics in the magic-soaked atmosphere of Hogwarts, but was immediately diverted by the booklist. "Thanks, mom!" He quickly scanned the headings. "OK, most of these authors don't seem too obscure. Even though I don't know what I can take this year, I pretty much want to get all of them."

"What classes do you want to take for which you think you might not be qualified?"

"Well," Harry answered sheepishly, "I think that I failed Divination, and of course, I never finished the History of Magic exam. I would need an 'O' to get into N.E.W.T.s Potions, and it would be a miracle if I did." He stood and began to put away some of the magazines.

Elëassa handed him a few magazines that had fallen to the floor. "My understanding is that you never really liked your Potions class or instructor. What do you care if you don't make the advanced class?"

Harry took a deep breathe to keep himself from snapping at his adoptive mother. She couldn't possibly know how important that course was for his future. "I need Potions to get into the Auror Academy! By not scoring a high enough grade, I've pretty much bollixed my chances."

"OK, let's address a number of issues you've raised. First of all, you don't have to take the class to sit the N.E.W.T.s exam."

Harry shot her a questioning look. "What? How can I do that?"

"Well, you can study independently with a tutor. I'm sure it's the less traditional route, but it has to have been done at some point or another. If push comes to shove, Carnesir and I could learn the material and help you with it, or we can hire a wizard to teach you." Elëassa paused, "But I suppose that the more important question is this: why do you want to get into the Auror Academy?"

"Why?" Harry retorted, "I want to become an Auror!"

"Really? Why?" The young Elemental asked.

"Well, erm—" Harry shrugged, "I-I've always wanted to become an Auror."

"Oh, why?"

"Well, it's important work. Aurors help keep the wizarding world safe!"

Elëassa smiled gently, raising her hands to show that she meant no harm. "Sweetling, I am not questioning the value of Aurors to wizarding society. I just wanted to know why _you_ wanted to become one."

"Well, I've always—" Harry stopped. Why _had_ he decided he wanted to be an Auror? Actually, thinking back, he'd never really made up his mind in any direction at first, it was just something that popped into his head when he'd met with Umbridge and McGonagall as apart of his pre O.W.L.s course planning. After Professor McGonagall had staked her reputation on his becoming an Auror, he felt sort of duty-bound to follow through with his blurted statement.

Harry lifted his eyes to his mother, who was waiting patiently for his answer. "You know," he shook his head thoughtfully, "I never really decided to become an Auror. It was another case of my doing something that I thought others would expect of me. I never even questioned if I really _wanted_ to do it." He sat down heavily. "Whoa…. Well, whoa…."

A delightful chuckle burbled through the air. "Is that the sound of a paradigm shifting?" Elëassa inquired soothingly.

"It never occurred to me that I could change my mind! I never questioned… I never even thought—" Harry blurted, "What's wrong with me?"

The Elemental sat next to him, and pulled him into a warm hug. "Nothing is wrong with you, my heart. You are exactly what you should be, given your upbringing. It sounded like the Dursleys violently deterred your questions. Once you got to Hogwarts, you were fed a carefully controlled amount of information. It appears that your friends also inhibited your ability to make inquiries about life. From your description, your friend Ron is remarkably incurious, while Hermione sounds as if she preferred to be the one with information."

"That's not fair," Harry protested, "I think that we all sort of fell into stereotypes because it was easiest: the bookworm, the wise-cracker, and the—" he stopped. What was he? The boy hero? Did he really think of himself that way, even though he knew he would prefer to be just an average, normal boy? Was he really ready to return to Hogwarts and be true to his new sense of self, or would he just fall back into the roles that would make everyone happy?

"Well, my delight, I'll let you think about it a bit more. About your books, yes, we can get pretty much all of them in New York, as well as those other things we'd discussed," she promised, smiling, "but before I take you to Hogwarts, I would like to pay a short visit to your former relatives in Surrey."

"The Dursleys?" Harry was incredulous. "I'm finally free of them, and you want to pay them a visit?"

"Yes, I do, Harry James, for two reasons. First, though I've adopted you magically, I want to make sure that everything is legal in the Adaptive world as well. Then you would most assuredly be free of them and no one—particularly that old geezer that placed you there—could force you to return there. That would be easier if the Dursleys were to relinquish their familial claim."

"Well, since they've been saying for years that I don't belong among decent folks, namely them, that shouldn't be too difficult. Unless, of course, they know that I don't want to be a part of their family, then they will refuse just to make my life miserable." Harry retorted, glum at remembrances of old slights.

"Not to worry, I can take care of the Dursleys." Elëassa said smugly.

"What's the second reason?"

"The Dursley house is where you first were exposed to those negative messages that you had taken to heart for so many years. I wanted you to have the opportunity to put that verbal abuse in its proper perspective. I want you to prove to yourself how strong you've become." She gazed at him calmly, and Harry's heart lightened at her confidence in him, so unlike that of his former 'relatives.'

* * *

Harry and Elëassa left New York City in high spirits. They'd found all of the books for the courses that Harry thought he'd be able to take at Hogwarts, as well as those in which he would either try to talk his way into the class or do an independent study. They'd shopped for several outfits for Harry (he was especially taken with a pair of black leather trousers), dined at several extraordinary restaurants, did a bit of sightseeing, and laughed and joked like two kids out on a lark. They'd also found some new jewelry for Harry, and though he'd never been much into self-adornment before, he was ecstatic about the import of these new pieces.

Before he could be fully adopted into the elemental clan, Harry would have to participate in a rite of passage that was commonly taken by youths of the Folk at the age of fifteen. It consisted of a journey through the forest in which the young boy or girl would be totally on their own. They would have to make their way through the wilderness on foot with no tool other than a knife, hunt and prepare their own food, battle several dangerous creatures, and make it back to the enclave within a set amount of time. Only then would they be eligible to be considered adults in their community upon reaching their majority. It was considered quite an embarrassment to fail the trial, and boys and girls would attempt it year after year until they passed.

Harry was not much older than the average candidate, but he had not been raised with the traditions of the Folk. He would have to train hard for his trial, which they'd tentatively scheduled for Christmas break, and he'd been training with his uncle and grandfather in both physical and elemental skills. He knew, though, that once he returned to Hogwarts, he would have to dedicate a portion of each weekend to go out into the Forbidden Forest with his mother to continue to develop his abilities if he expected to have any chance of success.

As a part of completing the first part of his training on Cabrëanea, the Folk threw a huge party for Harry. There was singing, dancing, drinking, and tales told of Harry's growth and courage. Even more importantly, he'd gotten one of the two things he'd wanted very much since seeing many of the elemental men in various stages of undress: he'd gotten one ear and both nipples pierced. Struck by Carnesir's several piercings, he'd noticed many of the elemental men similarly adorned. He was excited when, after complimenting his cousin, Sarodel, on his stunning navel ring, the boy had suggested that Harry get a piercing of his own! One of the elders of the community performed the procedure that same evening, and Elëassa promised him that she would get him a nice set of rings when they went to New York.

The other adornment that he would receive would be given at his full adoption. A tattoo that depicted the crest of his clan would be emblazoned upon him as a part of the ceremony, and the significance of that body modification was something that left him dizzy. It represented his family—his clan—the people to whom he would belong and who would belong to him.

* * *

"Come in." Eyes darting madly from Harry's long hair and tight denims to Elëassa's leather jacket, lips pursed in disapproval, neck craning to see if her colorful visitors could be seen by the neighbors, Petunia Dursley looked even more like a maddened horse than ever to Harry. She stood aside to let them in the house, ushering them into the living room, where Dudley was ensconced on the sofa, eyes glued to the television set, shoveling ice cream into his mouth.

"Duddums, dear, could you finish your show up in your room? I need it quiet in here to talk." Petunia crooned sweetly.

"Mum!" the boy wailed, "This is the best part of—" he saw Harry and Elëassa, and froze momentarily, unfortunately with his mouth open, exposing the ice cream to the warm air and their eyes. His eyes narrowed, "What is he doing here? Wait until Dad sees him!"

Elëassa raised her eyebrow, and Petunia quickly shooed the boy upstairs. Brushing her hands against her skirt nervously, she turned down the sound on the television, gestured to the sofa, and after Harry and his adoptive mother had seated themselves, she sat opposite them in the armchair.

"Mrs. Dursley, let me get right to the point. My name is Elëassa lur-Durondel. I live on a small island that I am sure you have never heard of in the Caribbean. I was the one who rescued Harry back in July. I have come to—"

"What do you mean rescued?" Petunia cut in furiously. "He didn't need rescue from us. What lies has he told you?"

Harry could feel his frustration and anger growing, but with a cool hand on his shoulder, Elëassa let him know that she would handle the situation, and he sat back, smirking.

Petunia, seeing Harry's sudden smile, also sat back, her heart sinking.

Elëassa continued coolly, though her eyes stared meaningfully at the other woman. "Mrs. Dursley, I know you and your husband like to threaten people, but I assure you that there is nothing that either of you can do to back up your threats to me. I have powers far beyond even those of wizards, and should you feel the need to continue your inhospitable behavior today, I have no compunction whatsoever in using them." She paused, and seeing Petunia's eyes widen, continued. "I have adopted Harry magically. I understand that you were never formally charged with his care, but in the interests of legality, I have come to ask you to sign several forms that would free you of any responsibility for him henceforth."

Petunia, surprised, sputtered, "But what about his protection from those evil wizards? I-I-I thought…."

Incredulous, Harry and Elëassa glanced quickly at each other before Harry asked warily, "What do you know about that?"

"Well, I was told, erm, that this was the only place that you would be safe." Hesitant, Petunia continued. "Anywhere else, that Death gang could find and kill you."

"I'd wondered," Harry said softly, looking around at the scene of so many of his distressful, humiliating memories, "I'd wondered why you kept me, when you hated me so much."

Discomfited, Petunia wrung her hands, "I won't apologize for anything!" She burst out, "You were left on our doorstep with no explanation but a note saying that you would be killed if we turned you out. I hated you, hated the fact that you took precious time and money from our son, but I am a mother. I couldn't send a baby out, knowing that it would certainly be killed!

"And what thanks did I get? People whispering every time you did something freaky! Having you frighten my baby boy with your ways! Freaks cursing my son, horrible creatures almost sucking out his soul!" She trembled, perhaps in fear of Elëassa's threat, perhaps in rage, her nostrils flaring and her eyes wild.

"Mrs. Dursley, calm yourself!" Elëassa interjected coldly. "I am giving you the opportunity to rid yourself of this obligation. All you need to do is to relinquish legal responsibility of Harry to me, and I promise that you will never be bothered by us again."

"Really? ….A-a-and that's it?" Petunia Dursley didn't seem as relieved as Harry thought she would be given the circumstances. _How strange,_ he projected to his mother. Without looking at him, she nodded, but continued to arrange the papers she was extracting from her bag.

"Yes, that's it." Elëassa hand her the papers and a pen. Petunia took them slowly, looking at them with something akin to—_what? regret?_ Harry guessed—in her expression. She signed the papers, her eyes dropping to the floor as she handed them back.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dursley, no need to see us out. Have a good day." Elëassa hustled Harry out of the house, but they could see her through the front window, with the garish, flickering light from the television glowing on her bent head.

_TBC_


	10. Ch 10 The Prodigal Returns

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer: This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Ch. 10 The Prodigal Returns

A/N The title of this chapter is taken from an incredible story by Lachesis called 'The Return of the Prodigal." If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it! It can be found on the Ink Stained Fingers Archive.

Severus finished his meal and sat back for a moment, gazing over the Great Hall. The noise level was beginning to increase, signaling that most of the little delinquents were cramming the last few bites of lunch into their maws. He looked up as a small white form flew in through the owl window. _Potter's owl, still carrying his letter, so we've failed to locate him again,_ he thought, the disappointment he'd kept at bay for the past few days causing his heart to sink a bit. Of course, he wasn't feeling the absence of the maddening Boy Who Lived, he was just becoming frustrated. He had used every potion and spell that he thought would be even remotely appropriate to find the infuriating little idiot, he and the headmaster had used Fawkes, and had even tried an arcane, maddeningly-involved location ritual that required it being performed at Privet Drive. They'd had to Stupefy the brat's relatives, which Severus had enjoyed immensely, then spent the requisite six hours waiting in the brat's dank, dusty bedroom, which Severus had most definitely _not_ enjoyed at all.

He did find it most interesting that the headmaster had been suitably quiet after viewing the boy's living conditions and meeting those repulsive wastes-of-flesh laughingly dubbed his relatives. Potter's disappearance and its attending revelations seemed to rip off the headmaster's mask of omniscience, leaving Severus with a deepening sense of disquiet as they attempted one fruitless spell after another.

Severus interrupted his musing to watch as the owl swooped to the headmaster's chair and perched on the back of his chair whilst he gave her a few tidbits from his plate. To Severus' eye, she looked as if she had traveled wide and far to discharge her responsibility. Her **flight feathers** were still fine and glossy, but she moved wearily, with less than her normal innate grace. Though it was only apparent to someone with Severus' keen observational talents, Professor Dumbledore's determinedly cheerful look was belied by the tight lines around his mouth and a decided lack of twinkle in his eyes.

It was no wonder. The press had had a field day with Potter's nonappearance on the Hogwarts Express. The Weasley boy and Granger—after careful coaching from the headmaster—were able to truthfully say that Harry had been in communication with them and that he was safe. Though it was 'leaked' that the Boy Who Lived was delayed because of special training, and that he would be attending school, the headlines varied from "Harry Potter—In Special Psychological Counseling?" to "The Boy Who Lived Training to Become a Killing Machine!" As the days grew shorter and the school term moved into its fourth week, the rumors became more and more frenzied, melodramatic and absurd, and articles reporting special interviews with 'undisclosed sources' had Potter anywhere from the jungles of the Amazon to the frozen tundras of Siberia.

The remaining two-thirds of the Golden trio was also growing more agitated with each passing day, and Weasley, never known for his emotional control, was becoming more volatile, once almost drawing his wand on a group of Slytherin boys as they taunted him about the 'Boy who Skived.' The Weasley girl had become an almost tragic figure, somehow transforming herself into the heroine waiting patiently for the return of her love. Severus snorted at that image—he didn't think the boy was even aware of the little redhead, but never having paid much attention to the vagaries of teenage romantic angst, he had no idea what the Gryffindors were up to when it came to emotional entanglements.

At that moment, Severus stilled as a surge of magical power flowed swiftly through the castle. Looking around, he saw the staff staring at one another, while an uneasy shudder passed over the students. Trying to find the source, he met the headmaster's questioning eyes, but before they could speak, the heavy oak doors to the Great Hall sprang open. Though they could be seen quite clearly from the head table, few of the students noticed two small figures slipping in through the doors, which quietly closed again.

There had been no alert from the castle wards, so the entrance was not immediately seen as a threat by them. Nonetheless, Dumbledore and McGonagall stood, while Severus, wand in hand, waited to see what was about to transpire. Before anyone could move towards the two people who had made it almost halfway towards the front of the hall with barely a ripple from those around them (_Disillusionment Charm?_ Severus wondered), the snowy owl, with the letter still around her leg took off with a vast sweep of wings, gliding smoothly towards the strangers.

"Hedwig!" One of the figures cried, and the owl swooped to land on his outstretched arm. With a shiver, the figure came into focus, revealed to be none other than Harry Potter. There was a hush for several seconds before pandemonium broke out. In the noise and flurry of bodies immediately leaping up from the Gryffindor tables, Dumbledore and McGonagall moved quickly towards the disturbance, while Severus moved more slowly, keeping a watchful eye on the figure that had been pushed back, away from the knot of bodies surrounding Potter.

Severus could see a marked difference between the quiet, pale boy who had left on the Express in June and the tan, comfortable youth that stood before them. Instead of the old, baggy clothes he'd worn when not in his school uniform, Potter was wearing tight-fitting jeans, _quite nicely tight-fitted jeans,_ Severus thought before he caught himself with a sickening lurch in his abdomen. Denying he was thinking about the arse of one of his students, Severus quickly scanned the long hair flowing in waves down to the lad's shoulders, the earring, and the filled-out muscles rippling under the golden skin. While still holding one arm out, carefully balancing his familiar, the Potter whelp was joyfully hugging the Granger girl with his other, eyes closed and a satisfied smile on his face.

"Hermione, I have missed you so much. You have no idea how wonderful it is to see you," he exclaimed in a warm tenor voice. His eyes alighting on Ron, he gently let go of Granger and gave the Weasley boy a half hug. "You, too, mate. How are you doing?"

"Great Harry, now that you're back! I can't wait to hear about—"

"Perhaps Mr. Potter would like to come to my office and tell us all about his training," interrupted Dumbledore smoothly, who had made it over to the group. "Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, you are welcome to join us. I am sure that I can convince the teachers of your afternoon classes to allow you a little time to catch up."

Potter looked at Dumbledore calmly, though there was an appraising gleam in his eye. "Ah, certainly, Professor Dumbledore, I would be happy to talk about my time away. But first, I would like to introduce you to someone." His eyes passed over the crowd until they found those of his companion, who stepped lightly over to the group.

Severus noted the woman's attributes quickly. She was short, her head barely coming up to the boy's shoulders, with warm, dark skin, and long curly black hair. Like Potter, she was wearing close-fitting jeans and a leather jacket over a silky shirt. Sensing his gaze, her chocolate brown eyes met Severus, and he stood motionless as he felt her measuring him. He did a momentary check of his Occlumency shields, wondering why he felt so exposed before her.

After the considerable amount of time she had accorded to assessing him, Severus was surprised that she barely glanced at Dumbledore or McGonagall. The boy continued, " _Nylrebmik_, this is the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House, and Transfiguration Mistress, Minerva McGonagall, and the Head of Slytherin House and Potions Master, Severus Snape. Professors, this is my mother, Elëassa lur-Durondel."

Severus, Dumbledore, and McGonagall, initially shocked speechless because the normally-bumbling boy not only remembered, but managed to announce all of their titles, were staggered by the last part of the boy's statement. In the silence, Severus could actually hear the owl cooing as she nipped gently at her master's ear. Eyes gleaming at apparently rendering the headmaster thunderstruck, Potter continued, "I guess I should say, my adopted mother, hmm?" he crooked his free arm, and the woman gracefully rested her hand on it, "You'd mentioned your office, sir?"

"I've read and heard a great deal about you, Professor Dumbledore."

"Then I am afraid that you have quite the advantage, ah, Miss…" Dumbledore paused delicately.

"Lady Elëassa will do, Headmaster."

They had managed to make it up to the Headmaster's office. As they ascended the moving spiral staircase without a sound, Severus could see the gears whirring in the old man's head as he sorted through the implications of Potter's declaration. Severus knew that Dumbledore would not take lightly anyone staking a claim in the Boy Who Lived, unless they were chosen specifically to guide and control the boy. That was quite clear to the Potions Master, who held no illusions about his employer. This unknown woman, who had the power to ward Potter behind protections unassailable by even Dumbledore's arsenal, who could breach the wards of the Burrow and Hogwarts to deliver the wretch's communications, and more importantly, who apparently had the influence to entice the boy to extend himself in his studies where his previous teachers had failed, and who could counsel the boy to grow into this enticingly compelling young man, was an individual with whom one had best tread carefully.

They had all been seated, Harry had joyfully taken possession of his trunk and belongings, and tea had been served. It had been determined that Potter and his companion had been travelling all morning, and after they had served themselves sandwiches and tea, everyone settled themselves in chairs before the fireplace. Though the inhabitants of the castle had just had lunch, Severus was disgusted to see the longing with which the Weasley boy eyed the cakes. Severus was startled to see both the woman and Potter sniff their drinks and food, look at each other, and then nod before eating. Had they thought they might have been drugged? _Interesting_, he thought, resolved to continue watching them carefully.

"Perhaps we could begin with Mr. Potter's statement that you are his mother?"

The woman eyed Dumbledore thoughtfully while she sipped her tea. Seemingly coming to a decision, she put the cup down, and leaned back in her chair. "You know, Headmaster, let's just cut to the chase. I have adopted Harry James legally, both in the UK and the US, in the magical and the mundane worlds. If necessary, you may check your own Ministry of Magic, and you will find all of the requisite paperwork properly filed."

"Indeed, Madame?" Dumbledore was taken aback. His eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm surprised that such an important legal procedure could have been undertaken without my knowledge. Please forgive me, but you seem very young yourself. Might I ask how old you are?"

"No, you may not." She stopped, then smiled. "Or rather, you may ask all you like, I have no intentions of satisfying your curiosity. I am old enough for the magic of the adoption rite to have accepted my claim, the non-magical British and American legal systems have approved the adoption, and your own ministry accepts it. That is enough for the legal systems under which you are governed, and that is all you need to know."

"But Mr. Potter's relatives—" McGonagall interjected, appalled at how the woman was addressing the revered old wizard.

"Have relinquished their connection with Harry James," the woman grimaced. Severus, remembering Petunia Dursley almost shivered in sympathy. "They gave their permission for his adoption in what you call the Muggle world, and Harry James and I filed the remaining paperwork this morning."

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore turned to Potter, his eyes slightly disappointed at the turn the conversation was taking. Severus knew that expression, one that would eventually twist its recipient into agreeing with whatever Dumbledore was proposing. "I must say that I am surprised that you would leave the blood protections of your aunt's home without telling anyone. I would hope that you might explain—"

Potter interrupted, his face set and determined. He bit out, "Professor, I'm not sure I can explain so that you would understand. All I can say was that I was cutting myself, I was spiraling downward into a depression from which I couldn't seem to pull myself. Within a few weeks, I wouldn't have cared about anything, the least of which whether I lived or died."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione sobbed softly. "I thought that's what you meant by your letters. I am so sorry that I didn't write you, that I didn't check to make sure you had someone to talk with about Sirius!"

"Hermione, hush," Potter turned towards his friend, his hand gently rubbing soothingly on her arm. "You didn't know, you couldn't have, since we weren't writing. I told you that I am much better, can't you see that?"

"Nevertheless, Harry, while I am sure that Lady Elëassa," he inclined his head towards the woman, who gazed back blandly, "Had only your best interests at heart, to leave the safety of your relatives' home to go off with a stranger is not the most responsible of behavior." Severus snorted quietly at that.

"See, Professor, that is what I mean about your not being able to understand. Let me see if I can speak more plainly. I… Didn't… Care! I was not quite suicidal—I didn't actively want to die, but I saw no reason to live." There were sharp gasps around the room. Potter looked around at everyone grimly, then continued. "I was cutting so that I could feel anything but the dull, numbing pain that was soaking my days and nights. The closest thing I had to an adult that actually cared for me had just died.

"Yes, I know, professor," here, Potter looked sharply at Severus, "I know that he was far from behaving like an adult. I know that he was not a responsible person who could probably ever take care of me, but he was the closest I had." Severus, remembering the Dursleys, conceded the point with a small nod, and Potter, though surprised, carried on with a glance that showed he recognized that his apology to the Potions Master had been accepted.

"I had just found out that there was a prophecy that I was to either kill Voldemort or be killed by him."

"But Harry," Ron jumped in, "The prophecy was destroyed!"

"Yes, but it had been related to the Headmaster. He replayed it for me the night we returned from the Ministry. He'd known it all of those years when I'd asked why Voldemort targeted me."

"Harry," Hermione asked slowly, horrorstruck, "It says that you have to kill him yourself?"

"Yes, Hermione," Harry said softly, looking at his two friends. "It says that he will kill me, or I will kill him." The three of them gazed at each other quietly.

Squaring his shoulders, Harry continued. "Then, when I arrived back at the Dursleys, I found out that the Headmaster had, in all of his wisdom, told them that Sirius was dead."

McGonall interrupted this time. "Mr. Potter, I would ask that you keep a civil tone whilst you are in conversation here with adults."

"Of course, Professor McGonagall." Potter smiled, a slow dark smile that seemed to drop the temperature in the room several degrees. "The problem was that my family was abusive. They forced me to clean the house, do all of the outdoor chores, and prepare the meals. If any one thing was not done to their liking I was usually punished by being deprived of meals or locked in my room."

"But, many parents—" McGonagall sputtered.

"I cannot speak for other parents, as I only know the Dursleys, but I would often go up to four days without any more food than I could scrounge from the rubbish, I would be locked in my room and only allowed out to use the bathroom once a day when there were no chores for me. I will not even speak of the verbal and physical abuse. Why am I even trying to explain this to you! You never listened before, why would I think you would listen now? I don't even know how I got so sidetracked!"

The boy stopped and took a deep breath, obviously gathering his thoughts. "Right. OK, I was just trying to explain my depression. The only thing I could hold over the Dursleys was my insane, criminal godfather who would come down on them hard if they mistreated me. Then the headmaster took that away. The first few days of the holidays were hell." He paused. "Then I just stopped caring."

In the silence that fell, broken only by the sniffles of the Granger girl, his words dropped like bits of ice. "Everyone knew. The Weasleys came to rescue me the summer after my first year, and they saw the bars on the windows. Madame Pomfrey gave me nutritional potions every year for the first month back at school. I had to send Hedwig away so that they wouldn't starve her to death. I realized that everyone knew but no one cared. So," his voice dropped until it was almost inaudible, "I stopped caring, too."

He cleared his throat, then looked up, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, but determined to make himself understood. "Then, someone came and told me that they wanted to help. They knew I was hurting and that they could teach me how to make it stop. I know that you think I was gullible, going off with the first person who was nice to me, but you're wrong…. It wasn't that I was gullible, in fact, I was quite suspicious, I thought they might have been Death Eaters luring me away from the safety of the protections, and I… Didn't… Care.

"I was prepared to give up, to just let someone do what they wanted with me, but instead, I found a reason to care. I found people who made me a priority, who took care of me, and even more important, helped me to learn how to take care of myself. They liked me enough to help me, and they loved me enough to make me a part of their family. And while they could keep me safe back home, they knew that I missed my friends and so _my family_ was happy to ensure that I would be safe back in the wizarding world so that I could come back."

"And that is where I come in, Headmaster." Elëassa chimed in silkily. "I am not here to re-hash the past. Let it suffice to say that the conditions of my son's childhood with those horrid people, the fact that he was left with them with no oversight, and the fact that he has been exposed to danger every year in which he has attended this school which is supposed to be so safe, has convinced me that whatever your purpose is here, ensuring the safety of Harry James was not a part of it." She paused, then continued, smiling thinly, "Or at least, it would seem that fitting him to be a part of your battle with this dark lord was more important."

"How dare you!" McGonagall trembled indignantly at the implied insult towards her employer.

"I dare because Harry James is my child, and nothing and no one is more important to me than he is!" The dark woman retorted. Severus wasn't sure, but it seemed the air in the room was swirling. No, looking around, he was _sure_ that several pieces of parchment were stirring on the headmaster's desk. The air around the woman seemed to glow with pale streaks of gold, pink, and silver.

"You have many students here, plus you have other responsibilities, I recognize that. Harry James is just one other student. You cannot be expected to make him your priority over the rest of the students here, in fact, your judgment would be suspect if you did. As his mother, my only goal is his continued emotional, physical, and mental growth and well-being. That, and only that is my priority, and I am here to make certain that such things as unruly goblets and ravenous basilisks are no longer a part of my son's education here. The only way our family was convinced that it would be safe for him to return was if I were to live nearby. I will reside for the remainder of the school year in the nearby forest. Harry James has told be a great deal about it, and I think it would be perfect for my purposes."

"The Forbidden Forest! That's impossible!" McGonagall retorted, aghast. "There are all sorts of dangers there!"

There was an insouciant smile on Harry's face as he replied, "Don't worry, I've told her all about the dangers, and she'll be alright. She has a special affinity with animals, particularly magical beasts." He and his mother exchanged fond smiles, but something tickled the back of Severus' mind as he put together a few clues: her power, her ability to both transcend wards and create protections unassailable by wizarding methods, the way the air seemed transformed angrily around her, and her professed affinity with animals. With a wash of warmth over his body, the clues clicked into place.

"You're an elemental!" Apparently, he and Minerva had come to the same conclusion, as they blurted at the same time. They stared at each other for a moment before Harry smiled and said, "Well done, professors! I told you, Mom, they are quite brilliant!"

_Brilliant? Harry Potter thought that he, Severus Snape, was brilliant?_ That thought almost drove his initial revelation from his head, but it returned. Harry Potter had been adopted by an elemental.

Elementals had returned to the wizarding world. Harry Potter had brought them there. This was going to take some getting used to.

"An elemental… t-t-they really exist?" The Weasley boy stammered. Severus snorted at the boy's gormless expression. Next to him, Granger turned her head from one person to another, trying to glean information from their expressions. Finally, obviously frustrated that everyone else in the room seemed to know something she didn't, she burst out, "What is an elemental?"

"My lady," Minerva began, kneeling quickly upon the floor. Before Severus could join her, however, Elëassa raised a hand.

"No, Professor McGonagall, since I will be here for awhile, this kneeling could become quite tedious—"

"No, you don't understand!" Minerva bit out. "I have wronged you, and I must ask your forgiveness." She bowed her head, shaking slightly.

"I don't understand! What is an elemental? Why is the professor kneeling?" Granger whispered angrily to Weasley, who brushed her off, his own eyes widened at the sight of his professor on the floor. Severus sneaked a quick glance at Dumbledore, who appeared mesmerized by the sight as well.

The elemental gently lifted an eyebrow, then asked meaningfully, her voice soft. "I barely know you, professor, how could you have possibly wronged _me_?"

In the stunned silence that followed, this time broken only by Granger's muttering, Minerva looked up at the other woman, then Dumbledore, then Potter. Severus could see in her eyes the exact moment when understanding dawned. Turning slightly on the floor, she bowed again, this time to Potter. Everyone in the room—except for the beautiful woman standing and the elderly witch on the floor—gasped as she bowed so low to Potter that she was almost prostrate.

"Professor!" Potter exclaimed, scandalized. He was stopped by a subtle gesture from his mother, but Severus could see his hands clenching and unclenching with shock.

"Harry Potter, I beg your forgiveness. I have offended both you and my sense of honor. I allowed you to be left with people whom I knew would treat you badly. I did not check on you with that knowledge in mind. I did not inquire after your well-being when you returned to school. I did not do what is required of me as your Head of House, as a teacher of children, as a friend of your parents, and as decent human being. I offer to you my sincerest of apologies, my humble assurance that my behavior will be different in the future…" she concluded with a soft sob, "and my magic in recompense."

Severus was staggered. Minerva had confessed on her magic? If Potter wanted, he could strip it from her, leaving her even less than a squib! He turned to watch the boy, shaken at the comprehension displayed on Potter's face. Not only was he aware of the ritual of absolution, he seemed to recognize the sweeping nature of his professor's apology.

Severus remembered all of the wrongs he'd done the boy. He knew how much he had relished each cutting remark, each humiliation he'd visited upon Potter during potions classes, Occlumency lessons, and every interaction between the little wretch and himself. Part of it was to maintain his position with the children of Death Eaters, but part was his own resentment of his treatment at the hands of his Gryffindor bullies. He knew that the Potter spawn could do little to him, so the favored victim of the Marauders vented his ire with impunity. Now he knew that the teen was the adopted child of an elemental, and that the longer he allowed their enmity to continue, the less and less his magic would support him. Severus knew that Minerva's confession demonstrated her own grasp of that concept, and he knew that he should do the same. If she had wronged the boy, how much more had he trespassed the rules of good conduct with the son of James Potter?

Potter's quiet voice cut into Severus' deliberations. "Professor, I accept your apology. I accept your assurance, and I accept your magic."

Almost beside herself with indignation, Granger leaped up and interjected, "Harry, how can you say that? How can you do that to Professor McGonagall?" Weasley pulled her back into her seat, whispering furiously, just as Severus snarled at the hapless girl. "Do not interfere with things you do not understand, Miss Granger!"

Harry waited until it was quiet in the room again. "I give you your magic back and in return, ask you to spend several hours reviewing some memories of mine that I will leave in a Pensieve."

Minerva winced, and Severus was impressed. The brat could not just forgive her, as the magic of the rite she'd invoked wouldn't allow it; there would have to be some sort of reparation. The type that Potter had requested seemingly required his head of house to view the times she'd ill-treated him, this time with the background that would give her the proper perspective. It was a highly appropriate, yet not too painful, punishment, and it would satisfy the magic of the rite.

Severus was heartened. Perhaps in time, he could consider doing the same. He caught himself, appalled. He couldn't believe that he had actually been considering approaching a Potter like some kind of supplicant begging pardon! Loss of magic or not, he had more important things to concern himself with, one of the most important being how he was going to handle informing the Dark Lord of the return of the Boy Who Lived.

Almost as if mentally connected, Severus found his inner discourse interrupted by Potter's obviously carefully chosen words as he helped his professor back to her feet. "Hermione, I'll explain all of this to you in a bit." He looked meaningfully at Severus and the headmaster, then sat down between a fuming Granger and a rather stupefied Weasley. "Right now, perhaps we should talk about how we are going to handle the information that I'm back?"

Dumbledore, clearing his throat after a somewhat uncharacteristic silence, reasserted himself, with a quick, "Yes, that would be an excellent idea."

Minerva seated herself without a sound in a chair by a window, while the three teens began to occupy themselves talking quietly in a corner. Severus, Dumbledore, and Potter's adopted mother gazed at each other momentarily in the stillness before gathering around the headmaster's desk to discuss the best way the spy could alert his master to the return of his prophesied rival. As they talked, surprisingly agreeing on many terms, Severus wondered if the headmaster was thinking of his own role in the painful past of Harry Potter.

_TBC_


	11. Ch 11 The Prodigal Reveals

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer: This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Ch. 11 The Prodigal Reveals

"So if you had just forgiven her, she might have lost all of her magic anyway?" Hermione asked, disbelieving.

"Yes, Hermione," Harry sighed, for what felt like the tenth time. "The _Veniam Mendicare_ ritual demands retribution for wrongdoing. If I hadn't asked for anything in exchange for my forgiveness, the ritual that she herself invoked would have penalized her, usually by taking what she had offered."

She scowled. "But why would she offer something so drastic?" Hermione, Harry, and Ron were sitting in one of the secluded garden courtyards near the main entrance of the castle. It was a sign of Hermione's relief at Harry's return that she'd taken Dumbledore up on his offer to allow them to skive off their remaining class of the afternoon to catch up with her friend.

Harry was ecstatic—or would have been if his friend hadn't been so fixated on McGonagall's invocation of the Forgiveness Rite. He didn't let it bother him, though. He was so happy to see them that he could barely keep his hands to himself. He found himself constantly touching Hermione on the arm to point out something, or bumping shoulders with Ron.

They were his first close friends ever. It was immediately apparent how much he had grown up over the course of his time on Cabrëanea, and he had recognized years ago how much more he had experienced the evils of the world than his more sheltered companions. However, he knew that he would always try to remain close with them, whatever might come.

Right now, though he was wondering what it was that Hermione was finding so difficult to understand. "Listen, Hermione, Minerva McGonagall is the head of Gryffindor house. She has nothing if not bollocks."

"Harry, language!" Hermione admonished.

Harry rolled his eyes and continued, "She knew that she had done poorly by me, and she also knew that because of my connection with the elements, things could start going wonky with her magic if she didn't set things right. She decided to make a strong gesture of reparation to show the extent of her remorse. Since I accepted, once she has made the reparation, the slate will be clean between us."

"Harry, it's great to get these lessons in magical justice," Ron said, rolling his eyes, but smiling. "But I'm more interested in hearing about you!"

"Oh, of course, Harry, Ron's right!" Hermione, blushing, added quickly. "Tell us all about your adoption. Your new mom is beautiful, and she sounds as if she has been really brilliant in helping you!"

"Yeah, mate!" Ron stood up so that he could see Harry better. "I can see that you've really muscled up!"

"I don't even know where to begin," Harry said, a soft smile playing over his lips as he thought back over the last few months, "I feel as if I am a totally new person. I feel so calm most of the time that I can hardly believe how tightly wound I was all last year."

He turned so that Ron and Hermione could see how sincere he was. "I know that I was a real prat to you then, and for that, I apologize." Grinning at the quick demurrals from his two friends, he gave them both quick hugs before he continued, "I know I said in my letters that I learned a lot, but let me tell you what I've been doing, and how much I've revised over the past couple of months…."

* * *

Harry could barely keep the smile off his face. It was Saturday morning, he was heading up to the Great Hall for breakfast at the Gryffindor table, discussing Quidditch and homework with his two best friends, and he felt like all was well in the world. He smiled at a quip that Ron tossed off as they descended the stairs. Since it was a Saturday, and there were no classes, he was enjoying the feeling of his new exercise clothes. Not wanting to lose his improved physical condition, he planned to take a quick run around the lake before starting on his missed schoolwork.

The night before had been difficult, though nothing he wasn't able to handle. He, Ron, and Hermione had returned to the Gryffindor common room to find his housemates impatiently waiting for him. There had been questions about his whereabouts, 'training,' and some rather insensitive questions about his new mother and family. He'd handled it well, he thought, giving answers to questions that he'd felt comfortable fielding, and when he thought something was rather intrusive, he'd just said, "That's personal, and I would rather not talk about it."

Some people had been rather affronted. Looking at his life before Cabrëanea, Harry could understand why. In the past, all of the details of his life had either been flashed in the papers, or played out in front of everyone at school. He'd had no control over his personal information, sometimes finding out facts about himself at the same time as the rest of the world, and more often, afterwards. He knew that people didn't like change, particularlywhen that change was an unwelcome restriction of information to which they'd previously had unlimited access.

He'd learned from Carnesir, though, that he didn't have to do something just because people expected it of him. Just because they wanted to know didn't mean that they were _entitled_ to know. Harry knew how much effort he'd spent in the past trying to please everyone, and his uncle and grandfather had made sure that he would be able to withstand the pressure to fall back into his old patterns. He knew some people would be disgruntled, but he did not give in.

The majority of the Gryffindors, however, were much more interested in catching up, sharing their experiences over the summer, with classes, and the changes in personnel at Hogwarts. Harry enjoyed these conversations, sharing a little about his Caribbean island home and family and was still rather discriminating with the amount of information he shared. It was obviously plenty, though, for they stayed up talking until the early hours of the morning.

Now, he watched a disgruntled Hermione as they walked. While it could grow rather annoying, and he was sure he'd eventually have to say something to her, right now it was rather amusing seeing her out of sorts. Hermione had discovered that there was little information available on elementals in the Hogwarts library, and she had been grumbling ever since her early morning sortie through the stacks.

With his trademark lack of tact, Ron wasn't helping, "Look, Hermione, I know you're ticked because I actually know more about something than you do, but—"

"It's not that, Ron!" she protested, though Harry thought he detected a bit of defensiveness in her voice.

He smiled as they passed Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape. "Good morning, Professors." He chirped brightly. Snape looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but surprisingly, said nothing.

Harry wondered if their interaction was going to be different this year. Snape knew that he was the adopted son of an elemental, which meant that the head of Slytherin would be cautious, concerned about the possible loss of his magic. Even before that, though, he had seemed less antagonistic. Hermione had said that he seemed the most convinced that Harry had been safe in the discussions of the letters that he'd sent, so who knew? Maybe DADA wouldn't be as traumatic as he'd expected.

He now knew that Potions would be a breeze. At their meeting yesterday, Harry had petitioned to be allowed to do potions as an independent study.

"_Think you can circumvent the rules by trying to study on your own, Potter?" Snape had snapped, though his tone was rather mild._

"_No, sir. I understand that I didn't get the requisite grade for entrance into N.E. potions. I've been revising my old work, and I feel as if I can do much better than I had in the past." Silence greeted that remark. Both Hermione and Ron were speechless, Hermione at the fact that it appeared he had been telling the truth in his letters about revising, and Ron because someone other than Hermione had apparently done extra school work over the holidays. McGonagall had been quiet since invoking the Rite, while Snape looked as if he was rolling a lemon drop around his mouth, and the headmaster's eyes were twinkling madly._

"_Actually, Mr. Potter, Professor Snape is not teaching Potions this year. Professor Horace Slughorn has kindly consented to come out of retirement to return to his old post as potions instructor, and Professor Snape has taken the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Now, your Exceeds Expectation will be more than sufficient to enter Potions, and obviously your Outstanding means automatic acceptance in the defense class." Dumbledore offered helpfully._

_Well, that was a shock. After gazing absently around the room, trying to harness his thoughts, he responded, "Well, then, that's wonderful!" All the while, though, he was wondering what that meant for DADA this year._

"Harry! Harry Potter!" Harry shrugged off his woolgathering and turned to see one of the Patil twins, coming towards him, with several other students in tow. He smirked as he realized some of his other lessons with Durondel had paid off.

"Hi, Padma. What's up?"

She paused, startled. "How did you know it was me and not Parvati?" She grew thoughtful. "We're not wearing robes, so it can't be that."

"Well, I'd never noticed it until I spent months with experts in flowers and herbs, but you have slightly different scents. She smells of cinnamon, and you, of cardamom." He grinned at her expression of astonishment. He then gestured towards her friends. "Besides, you just walked in with a group of Ravenclaws and Slytherins. A Gryffindor would never have done that!"

"Wow! That's pretty astute of you, Harry. My mother is a vendor of magical herbs, and when we were born, she would bathe us in distinctive soaps so that she could always tell us apart. You must have a very good nose to tell the difference!" She responded, shaking her head.

"Actually, compared to the rest of my family, I don't, but I've been working on developing a better sense of discrimination." Harry admitted.

"Well, compared to the rest of wizarding folks, you do!" She gathered her thoughts and continued, "Actually, that's the reason I wanted to talk with you. I am doing a report on tropical flora for Herbology, and I understand that you spent most of the summer on a tropical island. I was hoping to ask you a few questions to make sure that I am on the right track."

"I'd love to, but we would need to do it now, over breakfast, as I have cartloads of missed assignments to start on. Why don't I just join you at the Ravenclaw table, my spicy little friend, and you can ask away?" Harry, with exaggerated gallantry, bowed slightly and held out his arm, which Padma took, giggling. Escorting her into the Great Hall, followed by a disbelieving Hermione and Ron, he caught from the corner of his eye the narrowed eyes of Severus Snape and the gravely thoughtful gaze of Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

Harry came back into the castle, gasping slightly at the intensity of his outing. One of the things he'd begun to enjoy with Carnesir was running. At first, it was because of the types of conversations they had during their runs. With the older elemental, Harry felt as if he could say anything, and he took advantage of that acceptance. Their wide-ranging discussions covered both elemental and human culture and politics, sex, love, and magic. When he ran alone, he could reflect on his day or organize his thoughts. Later, he also had begun to enjoy the feeling of just physically exerting himself and growing stronger with each session.

Entering a set of side doors that led into one of the halls closer to the staircase that led to the Gryffindor tower, he felt a gentle nudge on the edge of his consciousness, and opened his mind to his mother.

_~Hello, child!~_

_~Hi, Mom! I was wondering how long you could manage to wait before you got in touch.~_

_~No snide comments from you, young man! I'm allowed to be worried, and to want to see how you're doing.~_

_~Mom, I'm great. I just took a run. I wish I'd thought about it before, but I could have swung by the Forest to check out your new digs.~_

_~No worries, there's plenty of time for that after you've gotten settled. Remember though, that until your training's progressed more, you are NOT to be out in the Forest unless I'm with you.~_

_~OK, right. I'll remember! I think I'm settling in well. I've not fallen back into my old patterns—yet.~_

_~I have confidence that you'll be fine. You sound really happy.~_

_~I am.~_

_~Good. Actually, there was another reason—besides talking with my favorite young man—that I contacted you. I'm going to bless about five Hogwarts students.~_

_~Really? How cool! Do you know who they are?~_

_~I don't know their names, but I have a general idea about their appearance and their emotional make-up. I thought I could describe them and you could tell who they are. Since I want this to be official, I'd like you to ask your headmaster if we could do this in his office.~_

_~That makes sense. Since their parents are not around, maybe you should have their Heads of House there, too.~_

_~Yes, great idea. Would you take care of it? I'd like to do it tomorrow afternoon.~_

_~Consider it done. See you tomorrow. Love you!~_

_~Love you too, youngling. Tomorrow, then.~_

* * *

The room buzzed with excitement. No one in human memory had ever seen an elemental blessing, and as usual, there was little information on it. Harry had allowed Ron and Hermione to attend, though he swore them to secrecy, and told them that were not allowed to utter a word during the ritual.

Hermione could barely contain herself. She had memorized everything about elementals that she could find, and it only served to pique her curiosity and arouse more questions than were answered. Harry had finally put his foot down, and said that he would answer no more than two questions a day. "For goodness sake, Hermione. You don't have to know it all right away. Pace yourself!" he'd said, secretly relishing the experience of having information that Hermione Granger wanted. It was a heady feeling.

While they waited for Elëassa to arrive, he decided to indulge her a bit and answer another of her questions. While they made themselves comfortable in the flowery chintz armchairs that Dumbledore had conjured, he turned to her, though he was aware that everyone else in the room was listening.

"Basically, Hermione, it was the way elementals kept human society healthy and growing, and rather less self-destructive. In the remote past, elementals used to take the human children that they felt called to contact. They would teach them for years, make them a part of elemental society, and when they felt that the then adults could go back to their own society and make a difference for the better, they would return them.

"Over the centuries, they decided that process wasn't healthy for the children, who would be rather divorced from their own culture, and would often pine for the elemental way of life once they had been returned to their own. The Folk resolved that they would still choose children, but allow them to live with their families, and teach, support, and protect them, all while those children remained in their own communities.

"As elementals withdrew further and further from human contact, the tradition became the stuff of myth and superstition. It's actually the source of the Muggle changeling stories, though people substituted elves or fairies for elementals. Any of the stories that were anywhere near the truth tended to focus on the benefit to the child: a powerful being—like a guardian angel—who would provide protection against most of the ills of the world. Rarely did they understand the interconnectedness of the elemental-child interaction. What we will witness today is actually the first blessing since Mahatma Gandhi, and before that, the last one was of Joan of Arc." He stopped to catch his breath, and realized that everyone was mesmerized by his explanation. Slightly embarrassed, he coughed gently.

"Thank you, so much, Harry!" Hermione gushed, as Ron and Harry glanced at each other quickly, then looked away, choking back a laugh. Of course, Hermione would be happy: For a moment, Harry had sounded like a professor, or her.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Everyone was taken by surprise, as no one had heard the staircase to the headmaster's door activate. Harry knew that Elëassa could have just appeared in the office, regardless of the power of the wards, but one of the lessons she had taught him was 'never let people know everything that you can do.' Following her own advice, she had just 'journeyed' to the top of the staircase.

With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore flung open the doors. Harry heard a snorted, "Show off!" By the time he'd turned around, the only person he saw in that part of the room was Snape, seated elegantly with a neutral expression on his face. He stared at the reserved spy for a moment before allowing his attention to move back to the rest of the room, where Dumbledore was welcoming Elëassa quietly.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said, inclining her head slightly. "I know that all of you are very busy, so I won't waste time. The children that I will bless are all very important, not just because they can make a future contribution to the well-being of your society, but because they need the particular type of care and consideration that I can give them.

She turned slowly around the room to encompass everyone in her smiling glance. "I want to inform you that what we will do today is to remain confidential, unless the child requests otherwise. There is no need for you to change your interaction with them, either, unless you feel you want that. It is best if events could unfold as naturally as possible.

"Ok, then?" At the nods, she seated herself, closed her eyes, and in a low, soft voice, said, "The first young one whom I call to my protection is bonny of spirit, great of heart, yet grave of mien. The lion hides deep within him, but it roars throughout his soul. It was only the vagaries of choice which shielded him from the lightning strike." She opened her eyes expectantly, and then frowned at the blank gazes directed towards her. "Well?" She snapped.

"Um, Mom, is that some sort of elemental Seer talk? 'Cause we haven't a clue who you're talking about," Harry said perplexedly.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said wisely, though it appeared that he was as ignorant as the rest of them regarding the identity of the 'blessed.' "Your mother has fixed upon the essential qualities of this individual, while we often just see aspects of their character that are the most noticeable, but not necessarily the best indicators of who they really are."

"Exactly, Headmaster!" She broke off, apparently amazed that she had actually agreed with Dumbledore about anything. The elemental turned to the Heads of House. "I can understand Harry does not know everyone in the school, but surely you must know who this student is?"

"Neville!" Ron blurted.

"Neville Longbottom?" McGonagall repeated disbelievingly and Snape sneered.

Harry said, "No, that makes sense!" He thought quickly of the boy that was so often dismissed by others. "The prophecy mentioned a baby that was born 'as the seventh month dies.' Both Neville and I were born on 31 July. Vold—" Harry continued through the hisses and gasps, "—Lord Thingy only chose to go after the Potters because their baby was a half-blood like him _and_ he could get to us because the secret keeper was a Death Eater. If he had chosen differently, Neville might have had the curse scar instead of me!"

"And don't tell me that he isn't very brave," Harry continued, impassioned. "He battled Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries!"

"Well, it would seem that you are correct, Mr. Weasley." McGonagall said, almost reluctantly.

Elëassa quickly continued. "The next child is fair of face and fair in his dealings. He is the third son of the third son of the third son, and he bears the burden of two families. He laughs much, and tries to think on his sorrows little. He is also called to the stars."

Harry shrugged. He realized that he was no good at this, but he saw Hermione's face set with determination as she thought madly. She then sat back, disappointed at not coming up with the answer as Madame Sprout said with satisfaction, "That would be one of mine, little Jameson Billingshurst, a third year."

"But what does she mean about 'the burden of two families?" Hermione mused.

"Miss Granger, I don't know why you are here," Elëassa said quietly, standing as the air stilled and the temperature in the room dropped. "But I only say these personal things aloud so that we can properly identify the child. These are aspects of their lives that I am sure they do not want bandied about like some sort of puzzle for your amusement!" By the time she'd finished, her voice gotten even quieter, and was almost inaudible with her fury.

Harry's heart tumbled. He knew that this was one of the most ancient rituals between elementals and humans and that there was an associated secrecy and solemnity to it that was almost sacred. He had let Ron and Hermione come, and he should have known that his inquisitive friend wouldn't have kept quietly to the sidelines. He stood up, moving quickly to his mother. "Mom, it's my fault, I said that they could come. I didn't explain properly how important it was that the privacy of the blessed ones be respected." He could see the anger and displeasure in her eyes, and his own dropped.

Hermione exclaimed, dismayed, "I'm sorry! I forgot about the secrecy! I promise I won't inquire into their private affairs."

Harry whispered, "Mom, I'm sorry, I'm sure she won't cause any further difficulties."

She responded slowly, her words measured, "Do you then guarantee her behavior, Harry James?"

Harry paused, gazing at the Gryffindor prefect. He loved his best friend, but he also knew how heedless Hermione could be when she was working through some conundrum. It was tempting to just say that she would by fine, but agreements between elemental didn't consider such things as personality traits or mistakes. If he guaranteed her behavior, that meant that he was _sure_ that she wouldn't cause any problems. Could he say that?

"Perhaps I should just leave," Hermione said tearfully. Ron stared as if he couldn't believe that Harry wasn't leaping to the defense of his friend.

"Hermione," Harry ground out staring intently in her eyes.

"I promise, Harry," she said, diffident. That made up his mind. If she had been confident, he wouldn't have been convinced that she'd thought this through. The fact that she was slightly unsure was a good sign.

"I guarantee her behavior, _Nylrebmik_." He said calmly. Elëassa nodded, then sat back down, closing her eyes again. During her next statement—which Harry ignored, as he had a snowball's chance in Hell of guessing who the person would be—he could see that Hermione wanted to ask about how he addressed his mother, and he glared at her meaningfully until she sat back, nodding.

After it was determined that a seventh-year Ravenclaw was the person Elëassa had in mind she quickly described someone who was, "Pale, sharp, quick to anger, he breathes fire like those who claim him, and he struggles against the darkness and the light."

_No,_ Harry thought, _no! I will __not__ have him blessed by my mother, I will __not__ have to deal with him as elementally protected!_ Hoping against hope that he was wrong, he murmured, "Draco Malfoy?"

In the sudden silence, Snape asked cautiously, "Why were you so quick to come up with Mr. Malfoy?"

"Well, breathing fire sounds like a dragon, 'those who claim him' and he certainly is pale and sharp," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Does he have really pale hair and gray eyes?" The elemental asked.

"Yes," Snape replied slowly, still looking at Harry.

"Then that is him." Elëassa said determinedly. "And the last is a young man who is very close to this Mr. Malfoy. He has no idea how similar they are, as he himself is rather great and grave."

After a moment in which everyone endeavored to arrive at the correct person first, Harry chuckled, while Snape snorted, and Dumbledore chimed in, "Great and Grave? Ah, that must be Gregory Goyle,"

While Elëassa mused, "I'm picturing a rather large, rather quiet young man," and Professor McGonagall contributed to the conversation by responding, with some not-so-hidden amusement, "That's one way of describing him," Harry turned to see Ron turning red while his lips, pinched tightly together—obviously to keep him from crying out—were colorless.

Perplexed, the black-haired youth waited until the professors and his mother were arranging to send for the students, and then took his friends over to the corner of the office. "What's wrong, Ron, you look upset!"

"Harry, she chose Malfoy and Goyle!"

_Ah, of course!_ Harry realized where Ron was headed, but tried to soothe him before the situation could get out of hand. "Yes, she did, as well as Neville, Billingshurst, and Shelton," he joined in carefully. _Please, Ron, don't do this,_ he thought.

"Yes," Ron spat viciously, "But she chose one from each of the other houses, and _two_ Slytherins!"

Harry found himself trying to placate the furious redhead. "That's just the way it worked out, Ron! I'm actually amazed that there _was_ one called from each house!"

"What do you mean called, Harry?" Hermione broke in, in her eagerness ignoring Ron's anger.

Harry turned to her gratefully, hoping his explanation would diffuse the rage building in his friend. "Well, it has little to do with my mother. Elementals, who are incredibly attuned to the flow of time, are not actually Seers who can see the future, but they can sense the nodes at which different streams of—well, fate, for the lack of a better word, are concentrated. There are people who seemed to be positioned at those nodes, and they have the ability to make a great change—either for the better or for the worse—in the way society changes and develops.

"Elementals believe that they can improve the future by increasing the understanding and basic humanity of those people who have a greater power to affect the future. They try, as much as possible, to get them while they are children, which was why they used to take them as babies."

Hermione's eyes sparkled with the significance of what she was witnessing. "So you mean that the people she chose will make a big difference in the wizarding world?"

"I'm guessing so. That's why they are going to be blessed. She will spend time with them, teaching and guiding their abilities, helping them to become more understanding about society and their role in it." Harry smiled briefly, "It's a great honor, and one that has not been bestowed regularly in centuries. I think that the elementals had withdrawn so much from the world as a whole, they were playing a much more passive role in its dealings. When my mom took me in, the elemental leaders decided to become more proactive about wizarding society, at least. This is the first step."

"Exactly, Harry! She picked people, and they are going to become important in our world! I can't believe that you're letting her choose Slytherins! You're going to let her honor and train those slimy junior Death Eaters? They're going to take everything she teaches them, and take it right to You-know-who!" Ron's face was as red as his hair, and Harry had never seen him so angry.

Harry could see Snape moving in their direction, his mouth already opening to dress down the raging Gryffindor, but he threw a pleading glance in the man's direction and quickly blurted, "Ron, she has the right and knowledge to choose whomever she thinks is best, and obviously she sees something that you don't! It's not that she'd going to make them important, they already were, and she's trying to make sure that they are fit to wield their influence well.

"What do you care, anyway, you don't have to deal with them, it's not like you thought she would choose—" Harry stopped, as cold realization stole his words for a moment. Seeing the blind fury in his friend, he continued haltingly, "You did… You—you thought she would choose you…"

Ron flushed even more deeply and quickly shouted, "It's not that, I just don't think that you would really want dark wizards hanging around your mother! Why should she choose someone who has had the best training money can buy, and then, _give them more? _It's not only not fair, it's dangerous; she's training the enemy, and you are too stupid to see it!"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley!" Minerva McGonagall had held up a hand to stop Snape from interfering, and she moved quickly over to her three charges. "That will be twenty-five points from Gryffindor, and you will serve detention tonight with me."

She drew herself up, quivering with outrage, and Harry remembered that she was a powerful, intimidating witch, "I have never been so ashamed of one of my house! While Miss Granger can be excused for her ignorance of elementals, you knew that this is an ancient and momentous practice that we are honored to witness. I will _not_ have it besmirched by your prejudice and envy. You will leave, immediately!"

Speechless, Ron rushed out of the door, and Harry knew that his homecoming would not be as smooth as he'd thought.

* * *

Dinner that evening was quiet. Harry had spent the remainder of the day with Hermione, doing homework and discussing the elemental ceremony that they'd witnessed, though his friend was scrupulously careful not to mention names or personal details. Ron, obviously ignoring them, was nowhere to be seen.

The students to be blessed had not been told why they were to come to the headmaster's office, so as they assembled, their heads of house were quick to inform them that they were not in trouble, and turned to Elëassa, who introduced herself and explained that she was an elemental. Harry had been gratified to see comprehension dawning in Neville's eyes, though the Gryffindor's ready grasp of the situation appeared to take all of the professors aback. Again, it was not surprising to see that the Ravenclaw, Lavinia Shelton, had known a little about what she thought were elemental 'myths.' Watching the Slytherins, Harry noted that Goyle didn't have a clue, but Malfoy became quite excited, and for a moment, at least, dropped his haughty aristocratic façade to breathlessly explain what a blessing meant to his housemate, as well as to the eavesdropping Hufflepuff. Even Snape seemed stunned to see how readily the Malfoy heir not only accepted the idea, but was eager to participate in a group with a Gryffindor and the muggleborn Billingshurst.

Harry held Hermione's hand tightly, his heart swelling as he saw how sweetly Elëassa embraced each student after they had said the ritual words, "I would be most honored and blessed by your attention, my Lady." She then kissed them on one cheek, then the other, and replied, "You are blessed, my child, by the gifts of air, fire, water, and earth, and I vow to protect, guide, and help you throughout all of your days."

Afterwards, Dumbledore waved his hand, and champagne, pumpkin juice, butterbeer, and little cakes appeared. All of the blessed students had slightly giddy smiles on their faces, the 'after effects' Elëassa told them, of the ritual which formed a slight bond between them and her. She also informed them that she would meet with them the following Friday afternoon after classes were done for the day, adding that she would know if there were any serious problems that required her attention. "However," she added, "If any of you should have any questions, or even just want to see me before then, just inform Harry James, and he will relay the message to me." At that, Harry saw Malfoy's eyes flicker in his direction, but his expression didn't change.

_This has been an interesting afternoon,_ Harry thought. _Ron isn't speaking to me, and Malfoy is under the protection of my mother. This year certainly isn't going to plan. I'm almost afraid to wonder what else could happen._

_TBC_

**

* * *

A/N** I know it has been an incredible time between chapters, but I hope it was worth the wait. I should be posting more regularly again, though at present I'm having a little difficulty with ch. 14 *sigh*

Remember that reviews are like owl treats to fan fic authors! Hint, hint….


	12. Battling Fear

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer: This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: I would like to remind everyone that this is AU after Book Five. Dumbledore is not fatally injured by Slytherin's Ring, nor is Draco Malfoy tasked with killing Dumbledore._

_Also, a couple of things have been brought to my attention from the reviews that I would like to address here: _

_1. I did correct the error in chapter 3: Elëassa's elements are water and air, not water and earth, as I'd mistakenly written. _

_2. It is not fact that a witch or wizard could lose their magic if they have wronged an elemental, just a persistent rumor. Minerva's reaction was less about losing her magic—remember, she actually offered it up in recompense—and more about doing the right thing by Harry._

* * *

Ch. 12 Battling Fear

Severus stood stiffly on the moving staircase as it rose to the headmaster's office. When he reached the top, the door opened and he strode in to find the lights low, with a cheery, small fire in the hearth. Minerva sat before it with Dumbledore by her side.

After one glance, the headmaster leaped up and solicitously drew Severus over to a third commodious armchair. Severus impatiently threw off his employer's hand with a scowl, but sank gratefully into the chair and poured himself a cup of tea from the service that appeared on the table at his elbow.

With a gentle reproach in his blue eyes, Dumbledore asked, "Severus, how did our adversary take the news of Harry's return?"

Severus sipped the tea and tried to will his hands to stop shaking. Giving it up as a bad job, he replied, "Not very well, I regret to say. It seems he thought the boy had run away in fear after the Department of Mysteries debacle. He had ascribed the collapse of their link as a sign that the boy, if he was still even alive, was cowering in fear somewhere far away. The reality that not only was the boy back, stronger and more knowledgeable than before, but also has returned with an elemental in tow, has been quite a shock. It has put paid to the Dark Lord's plans to use this time to secure his powerbase in the Ministry and caused a rearrangement of several tactical moves on which he'd been working. He wants to get rid of Potter and has made the boy his top priority. He plans on attacking the very first Hogsmeade weekend on which I can assure him the boy is going."

"I see," Dumbledore responded heavily, his eyes moving towards Severus' hands. "Thank you, Severus. Why don't you try to salvage the rest of the night and get some rest? I see that you have suffered somewhat from Tom's misplaced anger?"

"A bit, Headmaster. It was not too severe, as he set immediately to planning the boy's demise. I have a potion in my chambers that I devised for the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse." The dark man inclined his head briefly. "Good night, sir, Minerva."

Severus put his cup down, and had stood up before he'd realized that the woman hadn't made a sound during their admittedly brief conversation. He looked to see her staring at the hearth, her eyes haunted, her lips pinched tightly, and her face colorless.

"Minerva?" He said again, tentatively, his eyes meeting those of Dumbledore's. He would rather drink a Longbottom potion before he'd admit it, but he found Minerva McGonagall's brisk, undemonstrative mien one of the foundations of his existence at Hogwarts. Their longstanding rivalry, and their sarcastic quips at the expense of the other was more out of an acerbic camaraderie than any rancorous House competition. Seeing the normally unflappable Scottish woman so distraught was decidedly unsettling for her younger colleague.

Dumbeldore responded softly, "She'd been here for more than an hour before you arrived, and she hasn't uttered a word yet. I was just thinking that perhaps I should call Poppy—"

Stirring herself, the woman muttered, "Ach, no need for that…. I-I just needed a—a bit of company before I retired for the night. Oh, and to return this." She took a tiny item from her robes, tapped it with her wand, and placed the newly-unshrinked Pensieve on Dumbledore's desk.

Her old friend and mentor asked, "Minerva, would you be kind enough to tell me what you saw in Harry's memories?"

"No, I'm afraid not, Albus," she replied a little more brusquely as she stood and shook out her robes. "If he wanted you to know, I'm sure he would ask you to view them himself. As it is, I have no doubt that you know the gist of it." She didn't glare at him, a fact that was quite impressive to Severus, who could tell she was angry and perplexed. Instead, she refused to meet Dumbledore's eyes, almost as if she thought he might legilimize her.

"Please understand, Minerva dear, that I was totally unaware of any overtly harmful behavior on the Dursleys' part until this summer when Severus and I went to check up on Harry." Dumbledore said, almost pleading with his friend. Severus admired the adroit way in which the old man sidestepped several important details. It was the _end_ of the summer, long after the double agent had discovered the boy had gone missing, that the headmaster had gone to Potter's home, and that was only to perform the locator ritual.

"We both have a lot for which we should be held accountable, Albus. I have admitted my mistakes, and am prepared to do whatever is required to change my reactions when it comes to Harry Potter. It's a pity you are not yet prepared to do the same," she said dismissively as she moved towards the door.

Yawning slightly, Severus followed saying, "I'll accompany you, Minerva. Good night, again, Headmaster."

"Good night, Severus. Good night, Minerva," came the still voice from the figure highlighted by the golden flames of the fireplace.

"Albus." Minverva nodded slightly.

As they rode the descending staircase in silence, Severus was surprised at how shocked Minerva seemed to be at the treatment the boy had received at the hands of his relatives. _It's amazing how oblivious Gryffindors can be_, he sneered. _Or was the boy that good at hiding the abuse? He would have to be a remarkably good actor, or perhaps…._

Severus thought he'd viewed a relevant scene in the boy's memories during Occlumency lessons. What was it? Ah, that was it, a vague glimpse of the Sorting Hat muttering something about the boy doing well in Slytherin. At the time, Severus had dismissed it, being furious at the waste of his time and the lack of application the boy had shown for the lessons. The man had never thought about the memory again.

_Was it possible that the Hat had been going to put the Potter spawn in Slytherin?_ Severus shuddered at how much more horrible the last few years could have been, with the Boy Who Lived in his house. Or—a guilty wave coursed over the potions master's body—perhaps he would have learned much earlier how mistaken he'd been about Lily's child? Perhaps he could have provided guidance that accommodated _all_ facets of the brat's personality, not just the bold, brash, Gryffindor part?

Intrigued with the direction in which his thoughts were turning, he barely heard his companion attempts to engage him. "I'm sorry, Minerva, I'm not at my best right now. What did you say?" he asked.

"I thought I'd warn you that Harry and his mother are holding a press conference tomorrow right after morning classes. I believe she wants to lay some of the more ridiculous rumors to rest, and ask for the press to allow them a bit of privacy." Minerva's color was returning, though her expression was still rather disturbed.

He snorted, "Fat chance of that! Is the woman _that_ naïve?"

Minerva looked up, and Severus was gratified to see a little amusement in her eyes. Tamping down that emotion, he told himself that it was simply because he hated to spar with an already defeated opponent. She continued, "Actually, Lady Elëassa is quite savvy about human nature, much more than Harry is right now. I believe that she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

"Albus has asked for several professors to be in attendance. You might consider being one of them. I don't think you would want to miss this."

He pondered this information. In his guise as the Dark Lord's spy, he should attend, but he knew that wasn't the whole reason. Lady Elëassa was the first elemental he had ever met, and she was firmly aligned with the Boy Who Lived. This was a puzzle that intrigued him, and he wanted to learn as much as he could about her and the new-and-improved Harry Potter.

* * *

The sight that greeted Severus the next day was impressive. Even though the elemental had only come to Scotland three days before, she had learned pretty quickly how to get things done. He was standing on a small stage that Aberforth Dumbledore had erected across the road from the Hogs Head, along with Minerva, Albus Dumbledore, several Aurors, Harry Potter, and the elemental woman herself. They faced out on a square filled with reporters from all of the wizarding papers and magazines, as well as a microphone positioned by the Wizarding Wireless Network. The day was bright and clear, and while milling restlessly, the crowd of news representatives seemed to sense that this conference was going to be significant.

Precisely at noon, Dumbledore made to move forward, but was stopped by Elëassa's voice. "Headmaster, _I_ called this press conference. There is no need for you to take the microphone, is there?" She inquired mildly.

Taken aback, Dumbledore glanced at her sharply, but responded in the same tone of voice. "I was simply going to get everything started by introducing you, Lady Elëassa."

"Ah, that's quite kind of you, sir, but I think that I can handle introducing myself," she smiled, her amused reply acknowledging his attempt to take charge of the press conference. Potter glanced from one to the other, a small smile on his face as he watched the interchange. Severus was again struck at how much the boy had matured over the course of three months.

"The wizarding press here in Britain can be quite ruthless, Madame. I merely sought to set the tone so that they wouldn't—"

"Thank you, Headmaster, but I'm on it," she retorted tartly, one eyebrow raised. "I have read how well you handled them last year when you were painted a madman and my son an attention-starved liar." With that reminder of Dumbledore's failure to protect Potter from the press, she smiled tightly. As she stepped forward, Dumbledore, unnerved, moved back silently.

Immediately, shouts broke out as the reporters called out their questions, the mass of bodies surging forward toward the dais. Elëassa simply stood quietly, gazing patiently out at the crowd. After several minutes, when the reporters realized she was waiting, they quieted down, though there were some angry mutters scattered about the square.

"Thank you all for coming," Elëassa began. While there was no artificial amplification, her voice sounded as if she were standing next to each person present. "I am Elëassa lur-Durondel, and I am the adoptive mother of Harry Potter. You have many questions, and we are here to answer some of them. This is what I have planned so that we can get through this conference as efficiently as possible. Harry James has to have—"

"Is it true that you lured him from his relatives' home with promises of arcane, dark magical training?" shouted a rotund man from the front of the crowd.

Elëassa, surprised by the interruption, paused a moment then asked quietly, "Your name, sir?"

"Calumnus Crawmount of the Weekly Wizarding World News," he answered, puffing out his chest proudly.

"One more outburst like that from you, Mr. Crawmount, and you will be ejected from this conference," she responded, even more quietly. "Now as I began to say, we only have an hour as Harry James has to have lunch before he returns to his classes. The procedure will be this: He will read a statement, then we will answer questions. You will each have two questions. If they are inflammatory, insulting, or just plain stupid, we will refuse to answer. Have I made myself clear?"

More muttering flowed over the throng, but no one expressed dissension aloud.

"Oh, one other thing." Elëssa smiled engagingly, which alerted Severus to pay particular attention to what she was about to say. "My son has suffered at your hands in the past. Some of you thought it was ethical and fair to print untruths, rumors, and outright lies about him. If you stay for this conference, it is with the understanding that your organization will only print, or broadcast—this said to Glenda Chittock, the WWN reporter—only the truth about Harry and me. Are we agreed?"

After a shocked silence, the reporters either nodded or murmured their agreement. Elëassa waited until they had all done so, though Severus couldn't see how she could possibly know when that had taken place. When the last person had agreed, she smiled brightly, and Severus smirked. She had manipulated them brilliantly! While the crafty reporters may have thought they were just uttering words that they could hold themselves to or not, they had actually entered into a magically binding agreement with an elemental.

Severus had found more information on elementals in the Dark Lord's personal library. He knew that while the media representatives thought they hadn't said anything remotely legalistic, they would find their organizations unable to publish conjecture, rumors, or lies about the Boy Who Lived or his elemental mother. Since this was an elemental concord, it would encompass not just today's conference, they would _never_ be able to do so.

His smile fading, Severus watched, eyes narrowed, as Potter came forward, taking a short length of parchment out of his robes. The boy was moving with a grace hitherto only shown on his broom. The silken robes swirled around his legs, accentuating his lithe form and sinuous walk. Pointing his wand at his throat, he murmured, "_**Sonorus**_." When he began to speak, his magnified voice was calm and sure.

"Hello, my name is Harry Potter. I am here to tell you a bit about my last few months." He continued the speech carefully prepared by Elëassa, Dumbledore, and Severus. "After an incident in which I and several of my friends were lured to the Department of Mysteries by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the subsequent battle between his Death Eaters and us, it was determined that I was physically and emotionally exhausted. My muggle relatives felt they were not up to the task of caring for me, understanding so little of the pressures of the wizarding world.

"The Lady Elëassa, who had taken an interest in me over the past few years, volunteered to let me live with her family while I recovered. As we grew closer, they realized that they wanted to make me a part of their family. I was ecstatic, because I felt that they understood and could support me, something that I didn't have with my relatives. I was adopted in July. My return to Hogwarts was delayed slightly when I decided that I wanted to go through the full adoption rite with my mother's clan, because I needed to undergo more training.

"I would like to conclude by saying that I am _not_ an elemental, nor am I giving up my place in the wizarding world. The clan of Durondel is my family, and they appreciate my desire and encouraged my decision to return to Hogwarts.

"Thank you for your time and attention."

Elëassa took his place as he stepped back from the podium. "We didn't want you to waste your valuable two questions asking about elementals, so I prepared a little fact sheet." At her nod, dozens of flyers appeared, one before each person present.

"It basically says that we are able to communicate telepathically with each other regardless of distance, we have protective powers that far surpass those of the wizarding world, and that we have strong affinities with the powers of the elements, hence our name. There are a number of communities of elementals spread throughout Asia, the Americas, Australia, and Africa, although I am the first to be in Great Britain in over a millennium. There is much more detail, which you can read later at your convenience.

"Now we will open the floor to questions. Remember that you only get two—and one of you," she lifted her eyes mildly towards Calumnus Crawmount, "has already wasted one. Yes?"

She nodded at someone in the front row. Severus saw Potter's face fall as the falsely-sweet, knowing voice of Rita Skeeter stole through the air of the plaza. "We are all so very happy to have Mr. Potter back with us again. Could you tell us why the Ministry of Magic was unable to tell us where he was?"

Though he was sure no one else could tell, Severus saw Dumbledore and Harry tense. Elëassa, however, handled the question adroitly. "I have no idea what the Ministry of Magic knew, and if they knew where Harry James was, I really do not know or care what they deigned to inform the media, Madam…?" She looked inquiringly at the woman.

"Rita Skeeter of the Daily Prophet." She smiled, baring white, sharp teeth. "How is it possible that the Boy Who Lived could be gone for three months and the Ministry not know?"

A cold wind swept into the square, and eyes looked up as the sun was instantly cloaked by thick clouds. "Ah, Miss Skeeter, I am familiar with your work. You are probably more knowledgeable of the operations of the British Ministry of Magic than I. I cannot begin to tell you why it would keep track of the movements of a schoolboy, and I certainly cannot tell how it gets its information, or to whom it would normally be disseminated. Those, madam, are your two questions." Elëassa raised her voice. "I would suggest everyone ask questions that either I or Harry James can answer, and not waste them on matters that can only be answered by Ministry officials. Next person? You, sir, your name?"

While the conversation moved on, Severus diverted his scrutiny from the frustrated expression of Rita Skeeter, to the deft way in which the elemental, and at times, Potter, handled the questions of the reporters.

When queried why his relatives would allow someone else to adopt him, the teen replied, with an engaging smile, "My relatives took me in as a baby to keep me safe from possible retribution. They have never been comfortable with magic nor the amount of upheaval that seemed to always surround me. We are still in contact, but they recognized that my adoptive mom was better equipped to keep me safe and healthy."

"Healthy, Mr. Potter?" Another reporter queried, "Was there some concern about your mental or physical health?" Again, Severus noted Dumbledore slightly open his mouth, as if to take over answering the question, but Potter continued, swiftly, "Yes, sir, after a year in which I was labeled a misguided, lying boy desperate for attention by many of you, which culminated with a battle with Death Eaters, of course there were concerns about my health. I wouldn't have been normal if there weren't. I will not repeat the information I'd gone over in my prepared statement, but obviously I am much better, as you can well see. Next question?"

After about another half-hour, Elëassa neatly closed the session with, "I thank you all for coming, and remind you of your vow." That last word provoked a number of mutters, but everyone began to file out quickly, attempting to get their reports back without delay.

Elëassa turned to everyone on the dais, thanked the professors and Aurors for their support, moved over to Potter, and took the arm he offered. The two immediately moved toward the steps, and as they passed the potions professor, she glanced fleetingly in his direction, and said meaningfully, "Professor Snape, do whatever you need to protect yourself and your disguise. I assure you that you cannot hurt either Harry James or me." They descended to the path that wound from the village to Hogwarts, and Severus, wondering, followed with the headmaster and other professors.

Was the elemental aware of the Dark Lord's plan? And if so, what had she planned herself? He groaned mentally, steeling himself for the encounter she seemed sure was going to happen. He knew the Dark Lord had already made contingency plans, but that was for a Hogsmeade weekend.

Yet, he paused to ponder, this was actually the better opportunity. There were no other children about, particularly those of the Death Eaters themselves, so there would be no limit to the amount of carnage the Dark Lord's forces could wreak.

As he strode swiftly after Potter and his mother, Severus thought frantically, his stoic face revealing none of his worry. What could he do to not give himself away to the Death Eaters, still maintain his cover before the staff members who were not a part of the Order, and yet not hinder the plans of an elemental? He shuddered. While none of the sources he'd read seemed to back up the myths that wronging an elemental could damage one's magic, the old beliefs were so pervasive that they were difficult to discount. It was obvious that Lady Elëassa was not concerned that he would foil her plan, so he decided to trust her judgment. There was no use worrying until there was any indication that—he abruptly stilled, his eyes darting about the suddenly silent forest—_**over there**_—he thought he caught a flash of white in a stand of red-tinged birches.

Severus and Minerva shared a quick glance, their footsteps quickening as he heard Potter's "_Expelliarmus_," and watched three wands slap into the boy's hand. Just as a large number of Death Eaters poured out of the thicket of trees to assist their disarmed comrades, the two professors slammed face first into an invisible wall. Wards! Severus, Minerva, and Dumbledore, who'd caught up with them, rapidly cast spell after spell attempting to indentify the type of warding, trying to peer into the sound-deadened, murky shadows now obscuring them from the battle.

Severus knew that there was a frenzied uproar just feet away, and he could almost sense the flurries of spellcasting, so the uneasy silence surrounding them gave an eerie ambiance to their surroundings. He had just gone through his entire repertory of cutting, explosive, and suppression spells when a fourth set of spells, then a fifth joined theirs, and Severus looked over to see that two of the Aurors from the Hogsmeade press conference had caught up with them.

A third Auror finished a message to her waiting patronus then joined them as well. "I've sent for the Ministry ward-breaking squad. Hopefully, they'll get here in time to do some good," she muttered, sending a particularly Dark-looking spell at the shields. Time passed, though Severus had no idea how much, as the glade in which Potter, the elemental, and the Death Eaters had been shrouded seemed even more deadly quiet.

Without warning, the dampening haze cleared, and Severus and the others were free to move forward. Alert to hidden dangers, they sidled around the slight curve in the road. Severus, in the front, skidded to a halt as a wand appeared suddenly at his throat. Potter, panting, his eyes maddened but his arm steady, stared at Severus without recognition. Those lips, which only a half hour ago had been curved gently into a slight smile, curled into a snarl as a curse began to form. Severus knew he had no time to aim his own wand before he would be hit and stiffened.

"Harry James," the soothing voice of the elemental pierced the quiet. "The fighting is over, and help has arrived. This is the professor, from Hogwarts, remember?"

Severus watched as the Potter's eyes gradually cleared, moving slightly to take in Minerva and Albus. The wand moved from Severus's throat and he relaxed. He would have queried the boy on his defensive spellwork, but had to defer as Potter's eyes rolled back in his head, then closed as the Gryffindor, shivering, slumped slowly to a heap on the ground.

The professors gaped at the piles of Death Eaters—unmasked, unconscious, and bound—with their wands apparently under a magical ward a few feet away. They looked at each other in amazement as Severus noted at least a dozen, several of them members of the Inner Circle. They hadn't seen the encounter, so they wondered about the extent to which the elemental had participated as opposed to how much Potter had been responsible for incapacitating a dozen of the Dark Lord's best fighters.

* * *

With a swirl of robes and a flurry of locking and warding spells, Severus closed the door to his chambers and threw himself into one of the two wingchairs set in front his hearth. With a sigh that seemed to empty his entire body, he began to summon his brandy, rethought that, then summoned the expensive bottle of single malt that he'd kept reserved for special or particularly stressful occasions. Today was certainly that. Pouring a healthy dollop, he shuddered, then remembering the press conference, the battle, and the aftermath, just filled the tumbler to the top. Taking a big swallow, he closed his eyes and letting his head fall back against the chair, reviewed the chaos of his day.

Severus was surprised that the aftermath of the attack was handled astonishingly efficiently. Nodding significantly, Lady Elëassa had faded into the background as members of the Ministry (including the new Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour), more Aurors, and a few reporters arrived. A revived, and still highly alert Potter gave a succinct, almost military report. He detailed the number of assailants, the hexes, curses, and counter-curses cast by both sides to the best of his memory. There was a flurry of excitement when he'd mentioned that he'd been protected by an 'elemental body shield.' Upon further questioning, however, he simply repeated the same terse statement over and over.

Just when Scrimgeour's frustration appeared to overwhelm him, an Auror stepped up to report that all of the Death Eaters had been transported without incident to the Ministry holding cells. Severus noted that it was the same one who had sent off her patronus to summon the Aurors. The witch, who seemed ignited with determination, had been standing off to the side for several minutes while the Minister had been attempting to overrun Potter's defenses, badgering him with leading questions. She had obviously been observing the Minister's treatment of the Boy Who Lived and interceded at the moment the Minister began trying to seriously browbeat the boy. While she hadn't sought the boy's attention or tried to talk with him, Severus decided, with an internal snort, that she was obviously a supporter, probably a more useful version than the normal fans of the 'Chosen One.'

The most surprising element of that scene was that her help wasn't really needed; Potter was actually holding his own during the interrogations by the Minister and reporters. Just as at the press conference, the brat didn't allow the questions to throw him. He gave considered, thoughtful answers, refused to answer silly questions, and deftly sidestepped the poorly-disguised verbal traps. He also did this while maintaining a calm, almost self-deprecating tone. Severus had to admit that the boy he'd only thought of as an egotistic, arrogant James Potter clone had begun to develop into anything but. Severus found the concept difficult to stretch his mind around, but he was beginning to realize that Harry Potter had grown into a fascinating, alluring, compelling young man.

Severus froze. It was time to stop his thoughts from progressing along that route before they wandered somewhere he was unwilling to follow. He swallowed the last of his drink then poured and tossed back another, trying to relax his tense muscles. His cover had been maintained, Potter had been returned safely back to the castle, and the long day was finally over.


	13. Battling for Fun

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer: This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: So, in case this story (or my account) is deleted by the Powers-That-Be, I wanted to let everyone know that this fic is also posted on HPFandom and InsaneJournal (both under Winoniel), and I will also post it on Archive Of Our Own within the next week or so.

Also, the concept of spell chaining was gratefully borrowed from JBern's "Bungle in the Jungle," and "The Lie I've Lived," both great fics—I'd encourage you to check them out.

Ch. 13 Battling for Fun

God, he was starving! Harry moved quickly down the steps. He'd just dropped his belongings in his dorm, and was rushing to catch the end of dinner, having missed lunch—as well as his afternoon classes—because of the attack and its resulting interrogations. He'd just made it to the doors of the Great Hall when Katie Bell came out, wiping the edge of her mouth with a napkin. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and Harry groaned internally. He'd hoped to put this off for a few days.

"Harry, you're just the person I wanted to see," she exclaimed. "I don't know if someone told you but I'm team captain this year. Now, we've only just begun practices, and I put Ginny Weasley in the Seeker position, but she'd rather be a Chaser—"

"Katie, I can't play on the Quidditch team," Harry interrupted gently. He smiled grimly when her mouth dropped open. "Come with me, please, so I can explain."

Not speaking any further, he lead her swiftly out to the Quidditch pitch and unlocked the shed where the school brooms were kept. With everyone at dinner, the pitch was deserted. Harry drew off his tie and transfigured it into a Snitch, released it, and they both watched while it shot up and disappeared into the sinking sun.

Harry threw a leg over the aged Cleansweep but only hovered about three feet off the ground. He saw the question in her eyes, but just shook his head before closing his eyes and stretching out his hand. An exhilarating wind picked up and before he could say anything to his former teammate, a particularly powerful gust had blown the Snitch into his hand. Katie gasped, her eyes staring at the Snitch unbelievingly. Harry laughed in delight. The strength of his affinity with air still took his breath away.

He stopped Katie before she could say anything. "There's more," he promised.

Ending the transfiguration, Harry dropped his tie on the ground as he turned the broom to shoot straight up into the sky. He spent a moment admiring the sight of the castle. The last vestiges of sunset cast Gryffindor red and gold over the towers, battlements, and corbelled turrets, painted a glowing sheen over the lake, and threw the forest into deep, murky shadow. It was glorious, and if he didn't have a growling belly and a despairing housemate waiting for him on the ground, he would have spent a good hour reacquainting himself with the Hogwarts grounds. Instead, he uttered his elemental request, threw his leg over the broom, shoved his body off, and floated.

Harry breathed in the air, which had grown richly fragrant and tinkled melodiously around him. He could see Katie, almost a dot on the ground, through the glowing colors. Horrified, the Gryffindor had snatched out her wand, apparently to cast a cushioning charm to halt what she thought would be a precipitous fall. Instead, her face pale, her mouth again fallen open, she stood stunned while Harry floated gently to the ground. Murmuring a quick 'I thank you' to the breezes gusting away playfully, he turned to Katie.

"You see why I can't play? While my mother—even among others of her kind—is considered truly gifted, I personally have very few real, useful elemental attributes that I can personally call upon. The tendency of air to support and assist me is one of them. As the adopted son of an elemental, I have an advantage over anyone else on the pitch."

Harry let his gaze wander while Katie thought. He knew that his fellow Gryffindor could not, in good conscience, put Harry on the field.

Sighing, as she probably already knew the answer, she asked, " Are you sure this would happen every time, Harry? I'd be willing to give it the benefit of the—" At his amused expression, her shoulders slumped.

"I _**am**_ sorry," Harry murmured. "I really like flying and Quidditch, but—"

"But it wouldn't be fair to everyone else." She finished for him. "Sometimes, I really wish I was a Slytherin. They wouldn't have a problem with this at all," she added mournfully.

Harry gazed at her, astounded, then threw back his head and laughed. Katie, after a few more moments of pouting, joined in. They returned the broom to the shed, and picking up Harry's tie, walked slowly back to the castle. Harry wanted to rush, to try to catch the last few minutes of dinner, but he was almost ready to collapse from fatigue, and couldn't make his feet move any faster.

"Potter, may I have a word?" As they passed the spectators' bleachers, Draco Malfoy stepped out. The two whirled around swiftly, and he raised his hands slightly so that the Gryffindors could see that he was not holding his wand.

Katie, her eyes narrowed suspiciously asked, "How long have you been out here, Malfoy?"

"I just got here. Is there a problem?" Draco asked pointedly.

"No, none at all," Harry said hurriedly. "Katie, it's alright, I'll just talk with Malfoy for a minute, and join you back at the tower."

"Are you certain, Harry?" Katie asked, her wand still in her hand from earlier.

"Yes," Harry answered firmly, then watched as she walked reluctantly away. He really liked Katie. She had never been dazzled by his notoriety or swayed by the various rumors swirling around him. She'd always treated him like a slightly dopey little brother, ignoring him at times, and laughingly teasing him at others, but always with a gentle friendliness. She was one of the prettiest girls in Gryffindor but acted like she was one of the boys. Most importantly from his teenaged point of view, she had a body that curved nicely in all the right places and at the same time was lithe and athletic. If he ever decided to pursue women, she would definitely be one major reason.

Sighing as he thought about his missed dinner, he turned towards Malfoy. "So. What can I do for you?"

Hesitating a moment, Draco handed him something wrapped in a napkin. As Harry took it gingerly and raised an eyebrow, the Slytherin waved a hand towards it vaguely. "I didn't want to say in front of Bell, as I'm not sure if I want everyone to know yet that I've been Blessed, but I've been looking for you all day, waiting for you to get back from Hogsmeade. I knew you weren't at lunch, and I saw you were headed in for dinner when you were waylaid. I thought you might want something to eat."

Harry opened the package to find ham wrapped in a slice of bread. Stunned, his mouth watering and stomach rumbling loudly, he muttered, "I would say something about the inutterable irony of this situation, but—well… I find myself slightly distracted by hunger," and took a huge bite out of the sandwich, almost groaning at finally getting something to eat. He manfully ignored Draco's muffled snort.

After devouring the sandwich, he turned to the other boy, who had been waiting with uncharacteristic patience. "Thanks, Malfoy," he said, surprised. "So again, what can I do for you?"

"Your mo—the Lady Elëassa said that if I needed to talk with her I should contact you." Draco began carefully, his eyes seemingly locked on the horizon.

"Oh!" Harry said, "Sure thing." _~Mom, Malfoy needs to see you. Is this a good time?~_

_~Yes, darling. Can you bring him to the edge of the Forest? I'll meet you two there. You _have_eaten, haven't you?~_

_~Actually, I just had a sandwich. Believe it or not, Malfoy brought it, but that's all I have had.~_

_~Your arch-nemesis brought you something to eat? He must really want to talk with me~_ Harry could feel her laughter through their bond.

"Let's go, Malfoy," Harry said as he moved towards the Forest.

The other teen hung back, startled. "What—where are we going?"

"You said you needed to see my mother. I contacted her and she said that she will meet us at the edge of the Forest," Harry answered impatiently. "Let's go, I've been away from Hogwarts all day, and I'm exhausted."

Draco hurried to catch up with Harry. "Now?" the blond asked, "Are you serious?" Harry had set such a punishing pace that they were already halfway across the grounds and could see Elëassa waiting for them before Draco had finished his question. "How did you… I mean—I didn't think that she would see me right away!"

Harry glanced up sharply and quickened his steps even more, irritated at the other boy's disbelief. "I don't get it, Malfoy. _You_ said you needed to see her, so why are you so surprised?"

"I believe, youngling," Elëassa interrupted, smiling gently, as they entered the glade, "That Draco didn't truly believe us. He was uncertain that you would overcome your antagonism enough to actually get in touch with me, and uncertain that I would bother to actually answer his call. There really wasn't anything that Draco required of me at this moment in time, isn't that so, young man?"

Her smiled widened when Draco flushed. "That's quite alright, I can understand being unsure about such a grand gesture, wondering what that would mean in real life.

She waved her hand at a cloth spread on a grassy swathe. It was covered by plates, bowls and glasses, and the most delightful smells wafted from the area. "But since you're both here, why don't you stay awhile? I have some food here, and since you probably both missed dinner, why don't you join me in a small supper?"

The two teens eyed each other warily as they sat at opposite sides of the cloth, but once they saw the delicious repast the elemental had prepared, they eagerly filled their plates. The ensuing discussion, mainly between Draco and Elëassa, as Harry was preoccupied with eating, was enlightening.

Both were curious about the other, and had many questions. Elëassa satisfied many of Draco's by giving him a copy of the pamphlet that she had distributed at the press conference, and told them that she would answer more when she met with her group of Blessed Ones on Friday. Draco told her which were his favorite courses at Hogwarts, favorite books and foods, where he liked to travel with his parents, etc. At certain points, the Slytherin was less forthcoming, but Elëassa didn't press. Harry inwardly grinned. Remembering his own sessions with his mother, he knew that Malfoy wouldn't be able to avoid telling her what she needed to know to help him, no matter how much he tried. Harry was also amazed that he'd learned more about the other teen in one hour than he had in five years.

It was actually quite nice, sitting in the growing dusk, his belly full, listening with half an ear to the murmured conversation on the other side of the dining cloth. However, an embarrassingly wide yawn reminded him that the time was edging close to curfew, and with brief kisses on their cheeks, Elëassa urged them back to the castle. She watched them carefully as they crossed the grounds back towards the building, and upon their wave when reaching the doors, she melted into the foliage so quickly that Draco paused, blinking.

As they returned, Harry and Malfoy had little to say to each other. Harry thought the other boy might be embarrassed, both by displaying his insecurity about Elëassa's professed willingness to be available, and for the amount of himself he'd exposed in their discussion. Harry knew the feeling, often feeling rather raw after his sessions with his mother or uncle.

They reached the staircase which Harry would ascend to reach Gryffindor Tower while Malfoy would skirt around it to reach the set that descended to the dungeons. Harry nodded to the Slytherin, and said, "Malfoy." He saw a flash of something in the other boy's eyes (surprise? gratitude? grudging respect?) before Malfoy responded, "Potter." Then they quickly went their separate ways.

* * *

One advantage to returning to the Tower so late, Harry had thought, was that most of the furor about the press conference and Death Eater attack should have dissipated. One of the things he liked least about Gryffindors was their lack of sensitivity regarding his personal life. He'd chafed at it in the years before he'd been adopted, because he didn't have the social skills to maintain his sense of personal privacy while still keeping his friendships. Though now that he had better boundaries about what was appropriate to share with others, and what they had no right to demand of him, he still knew it would take a great deal of re-enforcement to maintain those limits with his school mates. He sighed, hoping that his friends would get the message quickly. In the meantime, at least there would only be a few of his housemates to deal with.

He'd been wrong.

He entered the common room, and almost groaned. It seemed the whole house was there, many of them clutching copies of newspapers. He caught the blaring headline of one, "Boy Who Lived Battles Death Eaters!"

"Harry! We were so worried!" Hermione called, waving him over. She was sitting on the sofa before the hearth, almost bouncing in agitation. Sitting next to her, Neville and Ginny looked at him with concern. Ron, glancing everywhere but at him, looked like he was trying to escape before Harry could join them.

Once Harry got close enough, Hermione grabbed his arm, and ignoring his pained yelp, dragged him down to sit next to her. Holding a newspaper in her hand, she demanded, "Is the Prophet telling the truth?"

Harry bit his lip to keep from snapping at her. He'd always disliked the way Ginny and she had manhandled him. They thought it funny that they could slap and shove the boys in their circle, safe in the knowledge that boys found it unsporting to hit girls and wouldn't respond in kind. Shaking her hand off of his arm, he stood, putting some distance between them by sitting in one of the wingchairs, then said mildly, "I don't know, as I haven't yet read it. May I?"

As he took the copy handed to him, he noticed a ring of silence descending around them, as other Gryffindors took notice. He tried to ignore the curious faces turned towards them, quickly becoming absorbed in perusing the Prophet.

Not surprisingly, considering the amount of power his mother had harnessed to enforce the journalists' vow of veracity, the report of the press conference was accurate, and the lengthy addendum detailing the Death Eater attack, while short on facts, did not embroider the truth, though he winced at the sensationalist tone of some of the language.

"Yeah," Harry said, tossing the newspaper to the side and getting to his feet, "Yeah, that's pretty much the truth."

"But Harry, there are so few details! What spells did you use, did you know any of the Death Eaters, did your mother fight, too?" Ginny asked, breathlessly. She was gazing at him with shining eyes. "The newspaper barely says _anything_!" The faces around them nodded, waiting for Harry to tell his story.

"I know there aren't a lot of details. What they have, though, came from me. I barely have had time to process everything myself. Maybe after I have, I can tell you more. Right now, though, I'm exhausted. It's been a long day, and I'm for bed." Ignoring the cries of dismay, Harry smiled wearily and headed for the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories.

* * *

_Well, two steps forward, one step back_, Harry thought to himself, wincing. He was sitting alone at breakfast, ignoring his two best friends, already having had a dismal morning. His sleep the night before had been restless, as the verbal battles of the press conference, the talks with the Aurors, Katie, Malfoy, and his housemates roiled around the fear and dread of his fight with the Death Eaters. He awoke with dry, puffy eyes and a short temper, his first in many months.

As he descended the dormitory stairs, he bit back an expletive as he saw Hermione and Ginny in the common room, waiting for him to tell his tale. Giving in to the inevitable, he took a deep breath, then another, and finally a third, then joined them on the sofa, and after Neville and Ron had scrambled down the stairs, he gave them all a slightly more amplified version of the battle.

His mother and he had known that there was a strong possibility that they would attack, and they had plotted how they would handle that. He'd asked her to simply shield him, and let him put into practice the spells and chains he'd learned over the past few months. They'd made a brilliant team.

Soon after he'd arrived on Cabrëanea, Elëassa had decided that his revising his old work was not good enough. Harry would need to learn how to consistently defend himself before she would feel comfortable with him returning to the wizarding world. While she was not a witch, she could command the elements well enough that she could mimic casting jinxes, hexes, and curses at him, which he would have to either shield against, deflect, or counter. She'd explained that at this stage in his life, he didn't need a wide variety of curses; he just needed a repertory of effective spells that he could cast consistently regardless of the situation, his emotional state, or physical condition.

She'd found several books that explained spell chaining in a clear, concise way. Essentially, a good spell chain was one in which the final motion of one spell moved effortlessly into the opening motion of the next. He developed a couple of spell chains, with his favorite being one that sequenced quickly between _Expelliarmus_, _Reducto_, Stupefy, and _Incarcerous_. He would then start at the beginning of the sequence again, and again, and again.

"So you expect us to believe that you disarmed, stunned, and bound them all by yourself?" Ron asked, disbelievingly.

Harry stared at his disgruntled, fickle 'friend.' In the past, Ron's jealousy would have ripped the abused orphan apart. Harry would have constantly dwelled on the problem, creating and dismissing ways of getting Ron to understand, before despairing of their friendship. Now, Harry had finally grasped how much energy he'd wasted when Ron—if he wanted-would come around in his own good time. And quite frankly, Harry had begun to appreciate how little Ron had contributed to their friendship over the years.

"Ron?" Harry said thoughtfully, "I don't give a fuck what you believe."

"Harry, language!" Hermione said, scandalized.

"You know what, I'm going to breakfast," Harry said, standing. Before the others could comprehend that he meant 'immediately,' he was out the portrait hole. They caught up with him by the middle of the first staircase, Hermione nattering on about spell chaining and why it wasn't taught at Hogwarts, Ginny gushing to Neville about how everyone was now calling Harry 'The Chosen One,' and Ron trailing sullenly to the rear.

Eventually, some of Hermione's twaddle drifted past Harry's consciousness, and he stopped walking. Momentum carried the others on until they noticed Harry wasn't with them, and they paused, looking back.

"Excuse me, Hermione, what did you just say?" Harry asked quietly.

Hermione was oblivious to the undertone of annoyance in her friend's voice. Ron, Ginny, and Neville, however, seemed rather discomfited, though unsure as to the reason why. They glanced rapidly back and forth between Harry and Hermione.

"I said, that maybe when we start up the DA again, one of the first things you can teach us is spell chaining," Hermione said.

"I probably won't have time for the DA, at least not during the Winter Term," Harry began, "As I will be pretty busy with my training for my trials and adoption rites. Besides with Snape teaching Defense, we probably wouldn't need a 'study group.'"

"Harry, you have to lead the DA!" Hermione said, loudly. "I have never felt more confident at the end of the year in a subject as I did in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Yeah, mate," Ron interjected. "You know how unfair he is with Gryffindors. If you don't help us, we'll never learn anything!"

"What, Ron," Harry said hotly, "Are you sure I can handle it? Do you trust me to tell the truth about my abilities? Why should I help you, when you don't give a damn about me? And shut it, Hermione," he added as the girl opened her mouth to speak. "If you don't like my language, why don't you just walk with someone else?"

Leaving the group behind, he walked purposefully to the Great Hall, and upon reaching the Gryffindor table, sat at the end opposite his normal spot. There were several open spaces near him, and with his anger rolling off him in almost visible waves, they remained free. He kept his head down, filling his bowl with porridge and fruit, but only sipping water until his heart stopped racing, and his temper cooled a bit. He still kept his eyes on his plate when a shadow passed behind him and someone sat on the bench next to him.

"Harry, could you pass the pumpkin juice, please?" a quiet voice asked. Harry looked up into Neville's calm brown eyes.

Passing the jug, Harry watched as Neville poured himself a glass, prepared his own bowl of porridge and began to eat in silence. Letting out a breath he hadn't realize he was holding, Harry picked up his own spoon, and also began to eat. There was noise percolating all around as Katie informed the rest of the house that Harry was no longer on the Quidditch team, and Ron went off on another tirade. However, Harry's intense glare ensured that they were undisturbed and the two boys sat in a calm bubble of quiet and acceptance.

* * *

By the middle of the week, things had quieted down between Ron and Harry. The fiery redhead finally realized that Harry was not only unconcerned about their falling out, but seemed to be getting along quite nicely without his first friend. He came to over to Harry's bed one evening, and ungracefully apologized. Harry only wanted peace in their dormitory, so he accepted, though he knew that their friendship would never be the same.

Harry's classes were going well. His revising with his mother and uncle had stood him in good stead. He was actually ahead of the Charms and Transfiguration classes. In Potions, the new professor was so star-struck, constantly telling Harry that he was so much like his mother, who had been a potions prodigy, that Harry could do no wrong. He had opted out of the History of Magic class, and at Hermione's disapproving sniff, he'd tweaked her nose by saying, "Don't worry, Hermione, I will still sit the N.E.W.T. in History."

"What do you mean? How can you sit the exam without taking the class?" She'd asked, her eyes narrowed.

Harry snorted. "How do you think home-schooled students take it? They don't have official classes. I will simply do the required study with my mother, who is quite knowledgeable. We all know that as long as Binns teaches that course, it's a waste of time. Since I'm working by myself, I can do it at my own pace, and sit that exam with the rest of you. I'll prepare just as I did for Runes."

Hermione could say little to that. She'd been amazed and almost a little resentful of Harry's dramatic improvement in his studies. Just through the work he'd done over the summer, Harry had been able to join her in the Working Runes class. She had studied Ancient Runes from third year on, and taken an O.W.L. in that class, learning about the construction of the runic languages and how to translate them.

Working Runes was based on the theory of the previous class to learn how to create, develop, and implement spells based on runes. It was a more practical, hands-on class (Harry's preferred method of learning), for which he had prepared during the summer simply by working his way through an accelerated revision that was based on language studies. Hermione's renditions were exhaustively correct, if somewhat awkward. She used a massive runes lexicon to methodically decipher, analyze, and reconstruct the meaning of each phrase, often redoing translations several times. In stark contrast, Harry read runic passages like a story, and would come up with an idiomatic version that was simple, elegant, and logical, causing his friend to gnash her teeth in envy.

"Yes, that reminds me: how _did_ you pick up Runes so quickly?" Hermione had asked, suspicious.

"Well, I suppose we cheated a little," Harry responded, a little sheepishly. "Because I was so physically run-down, my grandfather created a body-healing acceleration potion. One of the side effects was that my brain could accept accelerated learning techniques quite easily. I was able to revise my last couple of years of coursework and add Elementary Runes without any mental strain. I really learned as a child would, beginning with nursery stories and working my way up to more demanding readings. I tried that with Arithmancy, but it was much slower going, so I'm just going to take the elementary class for upper-year beginning students."

He smiled ruefully, "I also learned that without Snape breathing over my shoulder, I'm not all that bad at potions. Everyone on Cabrëanea is a quick hand with potions, but my family is magically linked to the healing arts, and they hold the distinction of being adepts when it comes to any aspect of healing elixirs and draughts. Since Slughorn is convinced that I've inherited my mother's ability, he's more forgiving when I make a mistake, thinking that it's my 'genius' causing me to try unusual methods and combinations of ingredients. I'm not going to complain about that, since I suffered through years with Snape treating me like I was an idiot."

Hermione sniffed again, while Harry smiled to himself secretly. She was going to get a lot more competition than she'd ever had before from a Gryffindor.

Harry's head snapped up. Another reason that he enjoyed his Working Runes class so much had just drifted into the Great Hall. There was a really attractive boy in that class, and while Harry hadn't planned on letting people at Hogwarts know that he preferred men, he might reconsider that for Wallace Kenward. Kenward was a seventh-year Hufflepuff, Head Boy, and one of the most appealing specimens of masculinity to grace the halls of Hogwarts. Tall, with short, dark curls and startlingly clear brown eyes, he had an engaging smile and long, lean limbs. He was nowhere near as alluring as Anwë had been, tending more toward the pale, British schoolboy look, but Harry was definitely interested. The question was, how could he tell if Kenward would be interested in him, or males at all, for that matter?

_TBC_


	14. A Mother's Devotion

**Changing of the Winds**

Disclaimer: This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: So, its been awhile, but I haven't abandoned this story! I just try to stay several chapters ahead of what is posted, and I had RL issues to deal with. Thanks for hanging in there!

* * *

Ch. 14 A Mother's Devotion

Severus tried to unclench his jaw enough to sip his tea. Actually eating his breakfast was out of the question. He was so furious, there was no possible way he would be able open his mouth without hexing his employer, which some would consider to be a poor career choice. Normally, he rather enjoyed Saturday morning breakfasts, there being fewer students in attendance, with a resulting lower volume level. However, Albus Dumbledore had just gaily announced to the school that there would be a Halloween Ball this year. As he had not mentioned it in any of the staff meetings beforehand, all of the teachers were stunned. Severus suspected that the reason it had not been mentioned earlier was that the old coot had just come up with the idea that morning. A quick glance over at the Gryffindor table hinted at the reason for the headmaster's ridiculous proclamation.

It was becoming apparent to Severus that Harry Potter was the focus of a number of plans devised by Albus to defeat the Dark Lord, and many of them hinged upon the boy's dependence upon the 'guidance' of his headmaster. It was also apparent that Albus was quite concerned about the influence that the Lady Elëassa had over her son. Severus believed that Albus wanted to restore the primacy of Hogwarts in Potter's life, and thus seemed to take an inordinate interest in strengthening the relationship between the Boy Who Lived and his friends.

Severus wondered how much of the brat's life had been engineered by the headmaster.

From what Severus had seen in Occlumency lessons, the meeting of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had seemed rather contrived. Why would the Weasleys, a pure blood family, use the Muggle entrance to Platform 9 ¾? It was obvious why Albus would want Harry to become friends with Weasley. The Weasleys were pure bloods, yet die-hard supporters of the Light and Dumbledore himself. What easier way to make sure that Potter was conditioned to trust and follow the head of the Order of the Phoenix than to make sure that he had the 'correct' friends?

If that was the case, then Albus's plan had hit a major obstacle. The Golden Trio was obviously on the outs. Harry Potter was sitting at the opposite end of the long refectory table from the irate Granger and morose Weasley. Severus wondered if the headmaster thought that more social events would restore the friendly dynamic among the young Gryffindors. From what the potions master could see, Potter was less inclined to be led around by the officious Granger chit, nor would his adoptive mother allow him to fall back into the lackadaisical habits of the hapless Ron Weasley.

In a sharp moment of lucidity, Severus realized that the boy had markedly outgrown his old friends. The question was, did _he_ recognize that fact? Clearly, Severus thought, the Potter spawn was striking out on his own, leaving the rather stultifying confines of solely Gryffindor society. While it may have been just due to their relationship with his mother, he had become quite friendly with several members of the Blessed group, often seen joking around with Longbottom, Lavinia Shelton, and Billingshurst. Potter had most decidedly _not_ developed more amicable relations with the Slytherins, though Severus noted that both Potter and Draco Malfoy had become quite neutral in their dealings whenever forced into proximity with each other.

Looking around, Severus noted with a start that several of his Slytherins were missing from breakfast. It was a moment before he remembered that they'd had an early morning Quidditch practice. With the return of Potter to Hogwarts, young Malfoy had been pushing for more field time, reasoning that it was only a matter of time before the Gryffindor regained his position as Seeker. Severus snorted. Draco had been hopelessly outclassed at every match with Potter. Why would he think this year different?

Severus shook his head as he become conscious that his thoughts had once again returned to their earlier subject. Why was he so obsessed with the son of his hated school-time bully? He remembered how he'd felt over the summer when he'd learned that Potter hadn't had the cosseted childhood that everyone (well, to be honest, only Severus himself) had imagined. He also recalled the sinking feeling he'd experienced upon learning how consistently he'd misjudged the brat over the years.

Just then, the object of Severus's reflection surreptitiously slipped out of the hall. He couldn't tell, but after the headmaster's announcement, it didn't appear that the boy had the time to even touch his plate. So why was he leaving? Thinking furiously, Severus quickly placed his napkin on his own untouched breakfast, murmured something about a potion needing attention, and stole out.

Upon reaching the hall, he caught a quick glimpse of color disappearing out the main doors. Since it was the weekend, he was sure it was Potter, wearing his workout clothing. Severus tried to keep himself from dwelling on how the lightweight material accentuated the boy's lean musculature, particularly that of his back and arse.

"Professor!" A panicked voice echoed down the hall. Moving towards the main doors, Severus saw one of his Slytherin second years. Her face was pale and she seemed to be shivering. "Professor," she cried, "Potter is cursing Draco on the Quidditch pitch! He's torturing him!"

Cursing inwardly, Severus's long strides left the girl behind quickly as he shouted back to her to alert the headmaster and made his way towards the pitch. What could possibly be going on? He knew that Potter wouldn't curse one of his mother's Blesseds, so it had to be something else. Besides, the boy had barely had the time to reach the pitch, let alone get into a pissing contest with the Malfoy scion.

Reaching the field, he saw a cluster of students milling around a spot in the center of the pitch, shouting and shooting spells. As he got closer, the cluster resolved itself into the Slytherin Quidditch team. In the middle of the melee, shielding himself from what looked to be several high-powered curses, stood Harry Potter, beside a writhing Draco Malfoy on the ground. The students were shouting to Potter to leave Malfoy alone, to drop his shield, to get off the pitch, but the boy stood firm, maintaining a rather impressive shield that absorbed every spell.

"Mr. Potter, what do you think you're doing? Drop that shield immediately!"

Severus looked back. Coming out of the castle was Poppy Pomfrey, Minerva, and Albus. Pomfrey looked shocked, and her voice quivered with indignation. "What have you done to that boy?"

Potter looked up, aghast. "What do you mean? I haven't done anything to him! My mother alerted me to a potential problem. She is tied up with something and she told me to find him and keep him safe. She said to let no one touch him until she returned."

Looking back at the boy thrashing about on the ground, Potter said, "I ran out to the pitch, and saw him on his broom just as he began to shudder as if he was having a fit, so I cast a cushioning charm and a deceleration spell. I had just brought him down when the other members of his team got here. They obviously thought that I had something to do with his condition, and tried to curse me, which is why I cast my shielding spell." His eyes grew distant as he looked down to where Malfoy was beginning to quiet down. Severus had begun to recognize that distraction as a sign that Potter was silently communicating with his mother.

"Ah, Harry, what a masterful display of quick thinking under adverse circumstances," Albus said, his eyes twinkling. "Ten points to Gryffindor for keeping the situation from escalating. Now, you may release your quite extraordinary protection shield."

"No."

"Madame Pomfrey, I think it would be best if—" Albus had turned away, obviously not expecting that response. Taken aback, he looked back to Potter, who was gazing at the professors pleasantly.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I don't believe I—"

"I said, 'no,' Professor Dumbledore," Harry said neutrally. "I believe I told you already that my mother said that no one was to touch him until she returned. I cannot allow you or Madame Pomfrey—" He nodded slightly in her direction. "—to do anything with Malfoy until she says otherwise."

Severus could see a glint of fury in the headmaster's normally gentle eyes, and took a step back, looking to Minerva to intercede with her lion. She shrugged briefly, but stepped forward.

"Mr. Potter, di' ye know what is wrong with Mr. Malfoy?" Her brusque voice had none of the accusation of Poppy's.

Gratefully, Potter looked up and answered, "No, Professor, but it seems to be passing. He's much quieter now than when I got here." His eyes grew distant again and his body stilled, though his shield was holding strong against the sporadic curses the Slytherin students had continued to cast until Severus quelled them with a glance.

Potter nodded decisively and dropped his shield. Holding his wand casually in his hand, he kept his gaze on the Slytherin Quidditch team members, though he turned slightly toward the school matron. "Madame Pomfrey, he's all yours."

Muttering under her breath, the nurse cast several diagnostic spells before she levitated Malfoy and headed toward the school. She looked back and raising her voice, snapped, "I want Mr. Potter and Miss Higgs to come with me. I need to know everything that happened to Mr. Malfoy!"

"I think that this would be a good time for us all to adjourn to the school, hmm?" Albus said jovially to the team members, who had been glaring at Potter. "If you trot along, I believe that you can still catch the end of breakfast." The headmaster's statement was punctuated by growls emanating from the stomachs of at least two students.

Severus just barely refrained from rolling his eyes, but merely said, "Make certain that you've put away all of your equipment, then hurry along." Nodding, the Slytherins made quick work of clearing everything away and began to head up to the castle in twos and threes.

Keeping a wary eye on the rest of the Slytherins, Potter turned with the second-year and followed Poppy. He was stopped by a slight gesture from Albus. "Mr. Potter, there still remains the need for a discussion to address your disobedience of a direction from me."

Severus watched carefully, and caught the slight narrowing of the headmaster's eyes when Potter responded calmly, "Of course, sir. I will be in the hospital wing. You can reach me there."

* * *

The Lady Elëassa arrived soon after, bringing with her Narcissa Malfoy. The blond witch, usually quite reserved, took one look at her son and burst into tears, gripping the youth's hand so tightly it was bloodless white.

Dumbledore had not come back to the infirmary, perhaps sensing that trying to interact at that point with Potter would only result in further public loss of face. The arrival of the two women, however, was followed so rapidly by his appearance that Severus wondered if Albus had set some sort of signal ward.

Elëassa whispered a few words to Narcissa Malfoy, and had just exited the infirmary doors when Dumbledore said, "My dear Madame Malfoy, perhaps you could shed some light on your son's health? He had quite the turn, and if it weren't for the quick thinking of Mr. Potter, things could have gone quite poorly for him." He waited, the silence building.

Madame Malfoy had been wringing her hands, her son's clasped between them. Pulling herself together, she took a shuddering breath, and glancing thankfully at Potter, said quietly, "I am afraid that I cannot say, Headmaster. It is tied into some family health and genealogy issues that are not for the ears of outsiders."

At Pomfrey's mutinous glance and opening mouth, Lady Malfoy said hurriedly, "However, I can tell you that the situation is now under control, and I assure you that this will not happen again." Her adamant, set mouth and the force behind her words underscored her conviction. She turned away from them, focusing on Draco and shutting out the rest of the room before the conversation could continue.

Severus watched them, eyes narrowed. He'd often felt that Draco Malfoy was going to waste his quite considerable potential by emulating his father, becoming a pretentious, power-hungry nobleman with little _true_ nobility about him. In the few weeks since he become Blessed, however, Severus had noticed the beginnings of a quiet dignity about the Malfoy heir that was heartening. The boy seemed to take more after tranquil, gracious Narcissa at those moments. If for no other reason than that, Severus rejoiced in the return of Harry Potter—with his elemental, adopted mother—to Hogwarts.

Severus ignored the slight lurch in his belly, followed by gentle warmth that suffused his body, which had recently accompanied any thoughts of the Potter spawn. Though this had happened frequently of late, he was still alarmed by his body's reaction to the presence of a student, and drew up his Occlumency shields to forcefully control his thoughts. He studiously did not look over when Potter turned to Albus, asking quietly, "Headmaster, you said that you wanted to discuss my disobedience with me. Is this a good time?"

Albus looked thoughtfully at Potter, rather taken aback, Severus thought, at the idea of a student initiating a disciplinary lecture. The boy was standing easily, seemingly unaffected by his professor's disappointed gaze. The silence grew and Severus thought that Albus would wait forever if he thought to unnerve or guilt the new Harry Potter into fidgeting or speaking first.

Finally, Albus sighed and said, "Yes, this will suffice. I must confess, my boy, that I was quite saddened by your refusal to follow the direction of Madame Pomfrey or me. I would hope that your time away from us hasn't encouraged you to become disrespectful or rebellious."

He waited, but the boy said nothing, evidently in the belief that nothing directly had been asked of him. Albus sighed again, and continued. "I recognize that other lands tend to be more egalitarian and free-spirited, but discipline is important and necessary when staff has the responsibility of the care and safety of a school filled with lively young people."

Severus almost snorted. Even _he_ was becoming impatient for Albus to get to the point, but Potter still hadn't said anything, waiting quietly but unabashed. After another long pause, Albus said, "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, and a detention helping Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing this Saturday afternoon." The infuriating little beast nodded his head and said, "Yes sir," before calmly moving toward the doors. He neither apologized, argued, nor showed any resentment towards Albus, Severus noticed. It was almost as if it was all rather inconsequential to the boy.

"Oh, one other thing, Mr. Potter," Albus said. Potter halted but didn't turn around.

"Just a small observation. Your friends, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, missed you incredibly while you were away. Please, do remember in all of the excitement of new friends and opportunities that the old, tried-and-true friends are often the best," Albus said, his tone cajoling.

Potter said nothing, but dipped his head in acknowledgement. Albus turned back to the Malfoys, and Severus thought he saw a hint of movement around the boy's shoulders just as he passed through the infirmary doors. Was he trying to stifle laughter?

* * *

Severus returned to the Hospital Wing the next morning with several potions that he'd promised to brew. Upon his arrival, he was faced with a rather astonishing tableau, but he recovered enough to slip into the shadows cast by the medi-witch's open office door, thunderstruck.

Draco Malfoy was sitting up, though just barely, head bobbing side to side, and mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He looked like a baby owl waiting to be fed, an impression furthered by his wide, staring eyes, ashen cheeks and wild, pale-blond hair flopping in his face.

Potter was standing next to Draco's bed, with Narcissa Malfoy _kneeling_ before the Gryffindor Golden boy. Severus caught only the end of her speech.

"—And swear fealty on my magic to the head of my family. My goods, body, and wand are at your command."

"Mother!" Draco shrieked, finally finding his voice. She ignored him, looking up with shining eyes when Potter knelt down to help her up, then took both of her hands in his. He gazed deeply into her eyes, and then gave her a gentle hug.

"I, Harry James Potter-Black, accept your fealty and promise protection to a precious member of my family. I swear that my goods, the might of the Blacks, and my wand will be the shield and shelter of you and your son."

"Potter, what the bloody hell have you done to my mother!"

"Hush, Draco, and I'll explain." Before Potter could reply, Narcissa had swiftly turned, placed a hand on her son's forehead, and drawn up a chair, settling into it gracefully. "The time has finally come that you can be told of many dark secrets about your father, your very life, and our family. It is an ugly story, but you will sit still and listen quietly, or I will cast petrifying and silencing spells on you. Is that clear?"

At the boy's wordless nod, she glanced thoughtfully around the infirmary. Though she couldn't possibly know he was there, apparently what she had to say was of such import that she didn't want any unwitting eavesdropping. Several muttered spells and waves of her wand later, and not a sound emanated from the little group.

Severus cast just as many eavesdropping spells, which were thwarted by those of the blonde witch. He began running through his library of counters, growing more frustrated with each failure. Finally admitting defeat, Severus waited until he could slip out unnoticed, and thoughtfully returned to his chambers.

* * *

Standing as far back in shadowed alcove as was possible without the headmaster lifting an eloquent eyebrow, Severus surveyed the Great Hall. Girls squealed with each new arrival, exclaiming over dresses and hair and jewelry, while their dates stood by their sides, manfully enduring each brain-piercing shriek.

The ceiling showed a crisp and clear night, with a few clouds scudding gently across the expanse. In the hall proper, the floating jack-a-lanterns, candles, and bowls of candies kept an unwitting sneer on Severus's face, even as he was soothed a bit by the rather proficient band, which played a wide variety of dance music, popular tunes, and old standards. What made the hall look even better to Severus was his resolute detachment from all of the goings-on.

Unfortunately, while his hidey-hole kept him from the necessity of dealing with dunderheaded students or only slightly less dunderheaded colleagues, it was deplorably close to the refreshment tables, so clumps of the hormonal idiots would gather nearby, and Severus was forced to listen to their inane exchanges. He'd pretty much decided that he would either have to find another guard post or just stab himself in the eye with a roasted pumpkin skewer, when he was joined by Minerva.

He glowered and bared his teeth. Maybe, just maybe, the old cat in her would sense a more formidable predator than herself, and move on to another refuge. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, unimpressed with his display. "Oh, Severus, just budge over, quickly, before Albus sees us!"

"He already knows I'm here, Minerva," he hissed, not moving. He yelped when a pair of deft fingers managed to pinch (all the way through his robes!) the soft flesh below his armpit. She used his momentary, painful distraction to burrow further into the shadows. Growling in defeat, he allowed her to join him.

The predator growing resigned to sharing his den with an older, wilier challenger, Severus allowed himself to relax in a moment of shared, comfortable repose. He followed Minerva's gaze to see the newly fractured Golden Trio and their dates. She sighed, and they stood back and listened to yet another illustration of the brat moving beyond his previous interests and companionships.

"Hullo Harry," Weasley said, as he and Granger moved over to Potter and a Hufflepuff seventh-year.

'This year, at least," Minerva whispered, "Weasley had the brains to actually ask the lass to attend the ball early." Severus nodded blankly, though why she imagined he cared was beyond him.

"Hey," Potter responded. "Do you two know Wallace Kenward?"

Granger smiled and nodded. "You're a prefect," Weasley said absently, looking around. "Oh, yeah! And you played for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team a couple of years back, didn't you?" Not giving Kenward a chance to reply, he continued, 'So, Harry, where's this mystery girl?'

Potter rolled his eyes, and then taking a step closer to Kenward, he said mildly, "Ron, I never said that there was a mystery girl."

Severus froze, eyes narrowed, as he heard Minerva's gasp beside him. His heart began to race, a delicate ribbon of heat uncurled in his groin, and his focus sharpened to a small area of the Great Hall, where Harry Potter was admitting—that he preferred boys?

"Yes, you did! I remember asking you who you were taking, and you said it was a surprise!"

"Right." Potter waited, obviously wondering how his friends would take the revelation of his sexuality.

It was clear when Granger figured it out. Her mouth opened in a small 'O,' and she looked quickly from Potter to Kenward then smiled knowingly. Weasley continued to stare blankly until Potter flung an arm around Kenward's shoulders. It was clear when the penny dropped. The redhead's face paled, and then began to darken, quickly surpassing the hue of his hair.

'Hey, Wallace, you want to dance?' Potter said quickly, hoping to forestall any explosions before Weasley could work himself up.

Severus watched as they swiftly joined the other couples on the floor in a rather slow waltz. Upon rapidly negotiating who would lead—Potter—they began a leisurely circuit of the dance floor. Just as they passed in front of Minerva and Severus, Kenward could be heard murmuring, "In case you're interested, Weasley just stormed out of the hall."

'I am, but not enough to leave you,' Potter replied, looking Kenward directly in the eye.

'Why, you know all the right things to say!' Kenward said, laughing as he was led by Potter in an exaggerated turn.

Severus smirked as Minerva turned towards the doors, her lips in thin line. "I cannot believe that Ronald Weasley! He's left Miss Granger in tears in the middle of the floor. Not only is that boy narrow-minded and rude, but incredibly cruel." She gathered up her robes.

"Isn't that normal behavior for your little lions?" Severus muttered as she left the alcove. He barely restrained a laugh as she threw up her hand in a rude gesture behind her retreating back.

TBC


End file.
